Reforging Glory

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/38514553.

Reforging Glory

by Dreaming_Magpie

Summary

A Tarnished clawed their way towards glory, and found herself wrenched further than she ever should have gone. The Lands Between are stagnant, the Erdtree burns, and the Elden Ring is in need of a new vessel. Radagon, in purging his fatalistic half, will mold a new firmament for the Golden Order with whatever resources he can attain, including the Tarnished. Notes

Heyo! Thank you for reading and if y'all are interested in seeing more art or my blog, both are linked down below!

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dreaming_ragdoll

Radagon of the Golden Order

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Excorio and Lacero hung limply in her hands, the sister swords spent and scuffed from clashing with Marika's bloody hammer. Within the sanctum of the Erdtree, it was simply two weary souls staring one another down with broiling frustration and begrudging respect. The Tarnished knelt a ways away from the redheaded warrior bracing his weight against his hammer with a heavy slouch to his posture. Beyond that, stone flesh gave few signs of fatigue. The man didn't seem to breathe nor did he break a sweat under the effort of the last battle.

His silence had been unbroken, until those stray words pulled Elia from her stupor, ...If this continues, will all that effort still have been worth it?

She glared, reverence gone and her tone dripping with disdain, "So now he speaks! I fail to see how we needed to fight at all, is this not what your god craved? For any pretenders to be slain, to restore peace?"

Any accord we possessed with the divine ended when…

When Himself or Marika failed to uphold the order? Radagon's words died in his throat as the Tarnished interjected.

"When the shattering ensued." She fought to stand on unsteady legs, still laboring for breath, "Why do you still fight? To drown us in our stagnation?"

You were unsanctioned, and unworthy of being crowned, His words were as unyielding as what remained of his stone flesh. Radagon stalked forward as he wrested the hammer from the shattered earth, and Elia swept into the waterfowl stance as her heartbeat pounded like a drum.

The modified pose to accommodate the two curved blades was an elegant one, informed by the footwork and dance-like movements of Malenia. That much was apparent to Radagon as he set his jaw and lunged with a newfound fury in his eyes. A strike of that hammer would have crushed in a helm and skull. It clashed with little else but air as Elia dove and leapt at the man. Lacero plunged into his chest cavity as the shorter pair of the blades, and as he fell with Elia planted on his chest, she drove Excorio through his eye with a yell. Radahn had been felled in a similar fashion, outwitted by speed and nimble strikes than the brute force of another juggernaut.

Radahn had been a creature of flesh and blood. Radagon was not.

Poisoned blades meant to bleed their prey dry did little good, Elia realized with a wheeze as she was kicked off of the man with brutal promptness. Disarmed and dazed, it was in a blur that she managed to roll aside before the hammer came crashing down and kicked up a plume of debris in its wake. A stomp to her back pinned her before she could rise to her feet, and she peered up with her eyes wide in panic.

Teeth bared in a snarl, and his arm trembling, never did Elia see the resemblance between Radagon and his wolves until now, Tell me, are you a poor imitation, or did my daughter truly fall to the likes of you?

"Your children ate themselves and one another alive!" she hissed, "Caelid is a waste because of your daughter." She wouldn't mince her words or beg, glowering at the man before his expression made her freeze.

Emotion was a strange thing to see wrack the face of Radagon, so unlike the statuesque sternness he held in countless depictions. His shoulders were tense and trembling, face hidden behind a red mane, Elia dared to speak and keep his attention,

"...You loved your children… were they the few things not bundled with your duties as Elden Lord?"

…I enjoyed the longest period of peace when I became a father. Those words were distant, the man in a fog of memory as he spoke, Why, why would you ever wish to consort with my lesser half, Tarnished?

He resented Marika so greatly? Elia wasn't inclined to voice her opinion on a goddess whose whims seemed as esoteric as the fingers themselves at times, "...I'll take what I am given and make the best of it. I still breathe and can fight as ably as any other who has walked this path."

Radagon's stare was heavy as he contemplated what to do with her. It had been too long since he held enough dominance to think, much less to roam and walk in a form of his own. When this fight ended, there was little guarantee his grace would linger, no certainty that Marika wouldn't cobble together another champion to enact a will he refused to play any part in. This hammer had broken the ring, and once attempted to mend it. What could he do, with the runes so close and a fresh soul as stubborn as him pinned underfoot? Elia's patience was wearing thin, and the man's silence had grown unnerving with the golden gaze of grace scrutinizing her intently. The weight lifted from Elia's shoulders as he grasped her by the scruff of her cloak.

You possess all of the great Runes claimed by my children, yes?

Hoisted up to eye level, Elia gave a slow nod before murmuring, "...All save for Miquella, he wasn't…he wasn't dead, yet he wasn't conscious in whatever state Mohg had reduced him to."

Radagon nodded, a tentative look of hope present in his face before Elia was gingerly set to her feet, The runes, I need them for what comes next.

Her expression turned hesitant, "...Mending the ring, is that your aim?"

It is the only sensible path forward from ruin. Yes. He nodded, a hand outstretched towards the tarnished with an expectant look.

"...is Marika still a fitting vessel for a restored ring? Would that not liberate her in turn with restoring your glory?"

A pity, this Tarnished had the forethought to contemplate how a vessel reflected the state of the ring's integrity, No. She is not.

Gold eyes settled over her with singular focus.

The crown of Elden Lord is not yours to bear, but your journey does end here, Tarnished. Marika is unfit, but you have displayed a determination that has kept you alive on this path. I need that fortitude.

Radagon outstretched a hand to her then, eyes narrowed and praying she wouldn't buckle under the weight of his words.

Elia didn't understand what his plan was at that moment, yet she felt the same fear race down her spine as when she had been cornered by his wolves in Liurnia. She stepped back, "Take your weapon, we settle this to whatever end in battle, Radagon." Her eyes scanned the field for her swords, and she narrowly ducked the swing of a punch as Radagon lunged for her. The hammer rested against the stump of an anvil in the center of the sanctum, not unlike the executioner's axe resting upon the block.

She found the discarded short sword of Lacero, blindly swinging for the hand prying for a hold on her braid. Without the weight of the hammer, he was sickeningly fast, and he swept forward to hook an arm around her waist. With the sword still in hand, she swung for his neck. The blade chinked against stone and recoiled from the force of her blow, met by his dry disdain.

Are you finished? his tone sharpened as she was tossed over his shoulder, his steps veering them closer to the anvil with a knot of dread building in her stomach. She tangled her hand into the red locks and tugged, hellbent to be a nuisance as she kicked, "No - what are you trying to do with me?"

Her clawing was far from pleasant, yet Radagon hurried his stride and all but dropped her onto the stone outcropping, her braid wrapped around his hand to hold her down, As I said, you won't become Marika's consort in the fashion you had originally intended. The Elden Ring requires a vessel and you will suffice.

Elia's blood ran turned to ice as she tried to see over her shoulder, the stone was cold against her cheek and Radagon's hammer loomed above. The runes pulsed with heat under her armor, stowed in a nondescript pouch corded around her neck for safekeeping - she jerked back when the hand on her braid shifted to grip the leather string. With a snap, the pouch's weight left her neck as Radagon hefted the spoils of her journey. Elia fought to rise from the anvil, "D-Don't, this idea you've concocted in your head, it can't be worth pursuing than restoring the ring, please."

You, who've slain all but two of my children and gathered their runes, are to thank. Let the flame of ambition free us all from Marika's stagnation.

The Erdtree's Sanctum was awash in light as the hammer struck, and Elia saw little more before her vision went dark.

Chapter End Notes

Heyo! Thank you for reading and if y'all are interested in seeing more art or my blog, both are linked down below!

blog/the-dreaming-queen

dreaming_ragdoll

Awakening

Her chest ached, all of her ached really, yet her chest seemed to throb and sting the most as Elia came back into consciousness. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to take in the familiar sight of the bedchamber. Save for the thin sheet and dusting of ash, the room was much as she had found it when she first explored the capital.

The light of grace was gone, nor was Melina alive to sit and talk with her any longer had the guiding light still been aflame. Elia pressed her hand to her face, glancing about for any friend that might have dragged her here from the bowels of the Erdtree. In her daze she realized much of her armor had been removed, baring the bandaging and fresh bruises marking her from the battle and with a sinking realization, she felt the absence of the runes around her throat. Blindly patting her chest and neck, Elia swore and rushed to her feet. The sudden vertigo made her vision spin and stomach flip in queasy uncertainty, forcing her to brace a hand against the stone bed frame Marika had once owned. Her blood roared in her ears, and her chest throbbed violently, worse than any set of broken ribs or impalement suffered in her battles. Stubbornly, she hobbled forward into the room, scrabbling to find her weapons and possessions.

The bedchamber was as bare as a pilfered tomb, and only when footsteps drew near did Elia leave her addled thoughts. Her blood ran cold at the sight of red locks, nor was there any mistaking Radagon's features even behind a face of proper flesh and a reconstituted body. Her eyes went wide at seeing him something resembling proper garments than a repurposed swath of fabric to cover his hips as he had been dressed in their fight. In a robe and hair bound in a braid, the man looked horribly mundane in an image that was hard for her to swallow. He blocked the doorway, and she stood with the same countenance as a startled deer, ready to bolt at any given moment.

She ached too much to run and had no desire to be manhandled again by the man. Elia slumped and sat against the bed with a weary sigh, "Out with it then, why am I in your bedroom and still alive?" Radagon stepped inside, moving to sit across from her with what was becoming a characteristic sense of stern silence. Elia hugged her knees to her chest, watching him acutely and jarred by the changes that his body had seen. Pink and flushed skin replaced his stony pallor, and the same gold eyes peered back with intense clarity. He had Malenia's nose...even Millicent resembled him in a quaint fashion, Elia realized with a wry smile.

Radagon frowned at her shifting continence, and sooner voiced his question than to answer her own, "Is something amusing,

Tarnished?"

"Your daughter and her descendants take after you immensely, is all." She murmured, "Will you answer my question?"

"One with an obvious answer. You needed rest to mend, and still do." He replied flatly with the raking of his eyes over her bandages and tattered undergarments, "Were you starved of clothes beyond your armor?"

"No, I had the finest tailor in all the land who dressed Morgott himself." She deadpanned, "Where did you find the excess fabric to properly dress yourself?"

"My old quarters." Radagon leaned against the column and cast a glance to the ashen halls, "You've made a mess of the city.

Was burning the Erdtree the sole method to enter?"

Elia nodded, "The fingers had gone still...whatever the Greater Will had desired, it wasn't going to allow me through of its own accord."

"...Who paid the price to wield the giant's flame?" he cut to the point, needing little explanation of the deed.

Her expression fell as she kept her head down, "My maiden and guide, Melina." She sighed, "You knew of the flame?"

"Conquering its people irrevocably marked me." Radagon hefted the length of his braid, "Yes, the giants were the first people the order waged war with as a rivaling faith and culture. The age of Erdtree was the beginning of their fall."

"What age do we sit in now? A shattered world, or did I actually achieve anything by facing you?" Elia questioned, and Radagon stared at her intently as if puzzling that answer himself.

"It's the dawn of a new day, relish that fact before you lose yourself in the macrocosm of it all." He spoke as he stared at his restored hand with a heavy exhale, as if he still slaked off the weight of his chains, "The Elden Ring is in a coherent and stable shape...pride yourself in that. I couldn't have done this task."

She exhaled tightly, marching forward to the taller man and wrenching his robe open to examine his chest. Damnably, it was smooth and unbroken skin. Only marked by the crosshatched etchings of his Greater Rune. Elia stared, gapping like a fish as she whispered,

"Where is it?" Her chest ached.

Radagon took her wrists in a bruising grip, prying her hands off of his garment.

He eyed her with a scathing look, "Unless you intend for an impromptu spar, keep your hands off of me." he released her wrists and pointedly tugged at the opening of her tunic, "You won't find my other half crucified within the Yrdtree."

Elia's blood ran cold as she tugged her tunic shut, "...You purged yourself of her?"

"...Your concerns of her being suitable to still hold the ring were not unfounded...even I could be a liability straining to retain control. A new vessel was needed, and I made the best of my circumstances with you." Radagon nodded.

The weight of his words made her feel sick, "I-I'm not a god-"

"No, but you are in the infancy of godhood. Tell me, were you born in this land, Tarnished?" Elia slowly shook her head, "As I thought. What are you then?"

"...Numen, my people settled in the frontier of Liurnia when I was a child." She murmured, piquing Radagon's interest at the Lunar Kingdom's mention.

"What drew you there, Leyndell would have been equally amenable to the same stock as Marika, easily among the lot to be given grace?"

Elia shook her head, "We followed traditions rooted in the moon and stars...for a time the Carian dynasty was safe and stable, and we were peaceful subjects. ...I remember when word of your march traveled through my village."

He cocked his head in curiosity, nodding for her to continue her account. "...I was still young, but your arrival prompted a change in how we were seen, where loyalties lay between the House of the Moon and the Golden order." "You were driven out," Radagon ventured on his assumption.

"Polarized is a better word. My father delved deeper into his studies of glintstone sorcery, and my uncle took up the sword against the golden order to prove himself a loyal denizen." She sighed, "It led to a firm upbringing and education, yet your marriage brought about a quick peace that would last well into my adulthood."

Renalla, the scent of jasmine and soft feel of her lavish velvet robes was a memory that enveloped Radagon at the indirect mention of her. It was a gentle expression that graced his features for a scant moment, and Elia couldn't help but stare as she settled into the few blankets atop the bed.

"...I hope you weren't foolish enough to discard my swords and armor, those were a prized family heirloom."

"I stowed them away, in your state I would rather you rest than run amok with those blades," Radagon huffed as he ceased his reminiscing, "They're steeped in foul spellwork, who tailored them to poison and bleed their target dry?" "My uncle." Elia's voice swelled with pride as a smile bloomed across her lips.

She was an impish woman, Radagon realized that fact with astounding swiftness as their days together wore on. It was amusing enough to have the silence broken by her cackle or blunt remarks. Those sounds were graceless and had never reverbed through these halls as Marika's steady intonations had. Yet the Tarnished's mannerisms couldn't alleviate how aimless it was to wait for a woman to recover her afflictions.

Leyndell's covering of ash still hung heavy even as the flames consuming the Erdtree had been extinguished. A city was halfway buried and steeped in memory, a graceless place at its current moment aside from its two sole denizens. Elden Lord and Queen, if his work properly held inside the tarnished woman, she would be a goddess of a fashion. With a consort established, all that needed to be procured was a shadow. How long could he keep referring to her with that title of a name? Discomfort nagged at his mind, unwilling to brook that level of intimacy with another consort. What good had his love and order done Rennala, nor little Ranni?

His gaze flicked up from his lap where he sat and kept watch of the room. She slept a great deal, usually through the night and as still as the dead. She was small as well, relative to his stature, and had been a pain to pin down in battle. Would she be compliant as a monarch, or a newfound liability?

It wasn't affection, but there was a warmer feeling when she came to mind that hadn't yet imparted the same dread as Marika's golden perfection and staunch will to test the unthinkable. The Tarnished fought well by most accounts, and would have been a delight to fight with under less dire circumstances. ...She'd imparted more empathy than perhaps the demigods were due as well.

This journey hadn't been a solitary one for her if a demeanor like hers attracted associates and friends to her cause.

She seemed to actively be mourning at least one companion since she had awoken in Marika's chambers. "...When you have your strength, we will leave this place. The Erdtree will need time to recover...and this is a graceless husk of my home." he spoke to no one in particular, trusting her to be too deep in sleep as he slumped in his posture.

Sleep beckoned him, and soon he saw nothing more of the room and little queen.

Woes of the Consort

Scattered leaves and sunlight greeted him as he awoke, gold eyes snapping open and alert as he eyed the bed.

She was awake, and thankfully hadn't run off into the ruins in whatever time alone she'd been allotted by rising early, "Good morning," she rested her cheek in her hand, something unseen bringing a cheeky smile to her face.

Radagon squinted at her, and she obliged him with an answer, "I hope you have a brush lest your title need amending, Radagon." She was spry when she hopped off from the bed, lacking the limp he had given her from their duel. Her locks were equally a mess to his judgement, scattered brown waves and curls tumbling down her back when free of its braid.

"You're well enough to walk again, Tarnished?" he waved to her legs and fading bruises.

Elia gave half a nod, "If I had my steed, I could ride as well. Why do you ask?"

"We're not to stay here. This place was befitting only as a shelter while you healed..." Radagon eyed the bedchamber in open distaste.

"...Then where are you headed?"

"We're bound for Liurnia." he corrected firmly, "...There are matters I would put to rest finally by going, we will find shelter where possible."

Elia swallowed hard at the prospect of venturing anywhere within spitting distance of Raya Lucaria. "...is that wise, Radagon?" She wrung her wrists, "Lady Renalla still resi-"

"Her place within the Academy is an eternal constant, do not think to shelter me from the obvious consequences of my marriage."

His tone was waspish and Elia shook her head with a sigh, "Then I will relish the chance to see Sella again."

"Whom?" He stared.

"A friend of mine," her tone hadn't been boastful, yet the words stung all the same as they belied a key fact.

In any corner of the world she had wandered, she could scrounge up a friend or ally. Radagon had a ruined wife and ambiguously fated children to be concerned with.

"...I have a question."

"Then ask it, you're never one to beg permission of me." She raised a brow.

"You only slew one of my daughters. Ranni. Where is she?" He pressed as he loomed over Elia with singular focus.

"With the stars now. A small favor I saw her being owed for the shelter and resources she availed to me. If you want an audience, find her tower near the abandoned Carian Manor."

"Have you no desire to see her?" He frowned.

"I settled my ledger with her, but her plans were her own and I would have no part in them."

Radagon stared, expecting her to elaborate as Elia stared back with crossed arms, "Use your words, oh statuesque king."

Blinking like a surprised cat, he pressed, "You were desperate to end your quest, did Ranni's plan not suffice?"

"...She offered an accord to liberate herself from her fate as an empyrean. That I gladly would help. I have no desire to be her consort as she plays at godhood or to rewrite the firmament of the land," Elia grimaced, "I am not a pawn."

The ire in her tone was not lost on him as they stared one another down, "No, but you have a role to play."

"And I was bent into fitting it." She dug her nails into her arm with a hiss with how tightly she held herself.

Radagon rested a heavy hand over shoulder, "Come with me. You've been without your armor for too long."

She eyed his hand, unsure if it was meant to be comforting or to keep still. "Do you want me prying your robe open again? Hands off." Radagon blinked, as if floored by the gall of her, Elia gripped his larger hand and pried it from her shoulder.

"Well aren't you blunt?" he grumbled, striding ahead to lead her through the ashen halls.

Elia trailed after him, forced to crane her head back to meet his gaze, "You aren't a man of many words, I plan to make myself plainly understood to you."

"Tactless, you mean." He shook his head, "I've crowned an imp for a queen."

Elia froze, not at the insult, but at the tangibility of that title. Radagon slowed his steps when she fell behind, "I thought you would be eager to have your regalia returned to you."

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, "...You've slotted me into Marika's shoes. Is this a temporary measure?"

He stared her down, "No, it is not. Your role as Elden Lord would have been a long lasting one as well. Were you not prepared for this?"

Elia shied back, lacing her fingers together with a wince, "...I was prepared to be a king, not a vessel. I'm no mother, nor am I a bride, Radagon."

"And yet here you stand, a host to the Elden Ring and sleeping in Marika's bed. It is what it is, Tarnished." he extended a hand to her, "It does you no service to wallow in uncertainty."

Elia seemed as inclined to touch him as a venomous serpent. Frustration nagged at Radagon's dwindling patience and he neared her, "Are you suddenly lame?"

"...I'd rather have a moment alone." She murmured, her expression grim as she refused to meet his gaze.

He gripped her jaw in a tense hold, jerking her face up to meet his gaze as he spoke, "Tell me, why are you more skittish than a de-!" he flinched with a sharp hiss as she lunged. Her teeth broke the skin of his palm and tore through ligaments and muscle with their unexpected sharpness. Ichor ran down his palm and she bore down harshly as her jaws held his hand in a vice. Fury gave her clarity in that moment, and he grasped for her throat to pry her teeth off of him.

He was flesh and blood, Elia realized when gold ichor stained her lips and the taste of iron weighed heavily on her tongue. Truly his body was remade, and his heart pounded as he held his mangled hand with a seething rage, "Are you a woman or a graceless wretch?!"

"Are you a king or a maidenless bastard fumbling for a place in the world?!" She shouted back with unrestrained fury, nose to nose with the Elden Lord. Doing the natural thing in a situation such as this, she headbutted him squarely in the nose.

As bone cracked, Radagon's grip over her neck slackened to hold his face, and she scattered back from him with a hitch in her breath, braced for another blow. He didn't have words for her, and still seemed at a loss for how volatile she had become after seconds of physical contact. Yet he wasn't one to be cowed by a raving and distressed woman.

Marika had never been this erratic physically, her lips had touched his skin in cold motions of affection, never bitten or drawn blood with adrenaline pumping and a heat behind her actions.

Radagon eyed the Tarnished with open contempt as the last scrapes of his wound sealed, and he straightened his broken nose bridge properly. Half his size and still prepared for a fight, he could commend her determination, but his patience was spent and he lunged for her. His shoulder met her stomach, and he braced his hand over her back and the other over her legs.

Elia's body tensed as she dug her nails into his back, "Unhand me, now !"

"No." Was all the reply that he gave her, tightening his grip over her waist, "Eternity is a long span of time to resent me,

Tarnished. Save your strength for something more productive."

Elia exhaled sharply, "Will you ever deign to call me something beyond that damned title?"

Radagon paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, "You never imparted your name to me."

"Bullshit, you never would have asked." She kneed him square in the chest, forcing a wheeze from his lungs as he gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her off of him. Held at eye level, mismatched blue-green eyes glared at him with the same dour demeanor as a drenched cat.

"Then tell me," he sighed, his expression a weary one as he stared down the most fickle of his consorts.

"Elia, Daughter of Megathirio." she spoke slowly, "Now please put me down."

Radagon obliged her, "...you still pay respect to your father?"

"I do." she murmured simply, not offering an apology for his hand as she stepped back from him, "I told you once, keep your hands off of me."

"So be it, Elia."

The remainder of their walk carried on in silence, broken only by the falling of leaves or the chirping of the occasional bird. Radagon walked at a brisk pace, peering over his shoulder every now and then to ensure Elia hadn't slipped away or lagged behind. His chambers weren't far however, as consort he was Marika's first defender and servant, always at her beck and call.

What surprised Elia was how anointed it was. Marika's bedchamber felt akin to an altar, steeped in ceremony and reverence. Radagon's chamber must have been guarded well by Morgott in his time as King of Leyndell. Astrolabes from Liurnia, pilfered giant's whips and tapestries from long dead courts adorned the walls, still glorious in spite of their faded and motheaten state.

The bed was intact save for the withered and threadbare linen, built to accommodate the towering frame of its occupant. She couldn't see her armor on display - no, it laid atop his dresser with a mending set of tools and steel thread. Excorio and Lacero were bundled together in a repurposed sheet and rope for safer handling.

Radagon beckoned her inside, "...I've mended most of the damage, your armor was well crafted to be intact after our duel. Though a few plates and seams were loose and weathered. Cumulatively you've endured many wounds in this." he murmured, seeming to read the armor as if it were a manuscript.

Elia reached for her swords promptly, her eyes wide and shining for a moment to feel their familiar weight again. To see the fashioned chitin plates of her armor primly polished to a shine made her breath hitch faintly, and with them, a fresh tunic and trousers had been found, "...This was a kinder gesture than I expected."

"I won't travel with you resembling a beleaguered pauper." He commented as he perused his wardrobe, "...I'd say you've recovered for us to leave tomorrow at daybreak."

Elia sent him a flat look, "I'm ready to vacate a dead woman's chambers today if you'd be willing."

"We have provisions and supplies to account for before we leave, is Marika's chamber that unsettling to you? You've lasted two nights there thus far," Radagon noted.

"You refer to it as hers…and it's a chilled and barren place to reside within now. I don't know why she fashioned it to be so." Elia murmured, "Do you?"

"In spite of being her other half, no. Her decisions are her own. If you won't rest soundly, claim my chambers for the night. You possess the more delicate constitution of the lot of us. Yet it isn't the trappings that repulse you from her room. What happened in that room?"

Elia winced, "...It was where I had the deciding conversation with Melina, and she proposed the alternative route than waiting for the fingers to one day relay the answer of the Greater Will."

"Your dead companion." Radagon reminded himself with a sigh, "Was she a constant face in your travels?"

"She was, I will miss her dearly." Elia hugged her armor tighter to her chest, "Thank you for mending my equipment at least."

"You're welcome." Radagon moved to depart the room with curt promptness and with the soft thud of the door creaking shut, she was alone.

Off the Golden Path

In the absence of a mount, Radagon was pressed to walk with the lead of Elia's steed in hand. The Erdtree was a fading monolith in the distance, and they continued to the southwest in the early hours of the morning.

Torrent eyed Radagon with the same distaste as Elia tended to when her mood soured, unaccustomed to the towering stranger leading him than Elia or Melina. The horse was sooner accustomed to Millicent and her scent of rot than Radagon. His armor had been neglected, yet intact in his quarters, and in wearing it was the greatest amount of clothing Elia had seen him in thus

far.

A dull bronze and gold armor set which resembled the regalia of a tree sentinel, yet his rune's crosshatched motif defined much of the design's embellishments of which there were few beyond skilled metalworking. Little in the way of gems, fur, or gaudy adornments lingered as with Godrick or Radahn's eccentric tastes. If not for Radagon's hair and swan hued cloak, it would have been easy to overlook him.

Elia felt more like herself than she had in days, outfitted in her armor and blue cloak once more and astride Torrent, setting out with little in the way of a plan when chaos often found her on its own accord. "...Did you ever possess a horse once?"

"Prior to the shattering, yes. Your spectral steed wasn't a common thing to have even then." Radagon commented over his shoulder, casting a glance back to her, " He was bequeathed to you by one of your companions?"

"By Melina." Elia nodded, and Radagon scowled to have stumbled over that sore spot.

Torrent chuffed against the hand gripping his reigns, drawing a wary look from Radagon. Having been bitten once in the span of the two days was more than enough for the man, and Elia's teeth on him would be preferable to those of a temperamental steed.

Tentatively, he released the reigns, keeping his eyes fixed on Elia.

"As much as I would relish making you run, I want to visit Raya Lucaria." She deadpanned, "Of the two of us you have the worse fate of facing Rennala."

His eyes narrowed, "Do you think she will be ecstatic to see you either?" "She won't." Her words made him freeze.

"Eh?"

"I won't be with you when you see her. I have other people to check in on, and I hold no stake in what she suffered because of you." Elia raised a brow at him, "How did you envision that confrontation going?"

"Shouting, a few hexes. Maybe in her fury she would be more….herself? Grief gnaws at Rennala even still, from your account of facing her?"

"It does, and I am not the second woman to fill her role of my own choice," her tone hardened, "You're doing this alone Radagon."

He furrowed his brows at Elia, "Very well. My battles are my own, as are yours."

"They always have been, you rearing your head into my life doesn't change the orbit of my priorities." She hummed, "...after this, I'm choosing our next destination."

" Pray tell, why?" He cocked his head at her statement.

"I had plans, and still do. A friend is expecting me to return with news of Miquella's work." Radagon nodded, giving her an expectant look to continue.

"Miquella may have been one of the few researchers close to a breakthrough with severing the source of scarlet rot from those it afflicted… The artefacts his experiments made proved crucial to prolonging Millicent's health and life. Its..it isn't a cure however, not yet."

"If I understand correctly, your bid for the Elden Ring was to further this plan?" Radagon walked side by side with Torrent, standing at eye level with Elia.

"It was a motivating factor," she admitted, "I also had the ever impending problem of the runes making me a target for any rival party. You would know, I delivered them to you in a neatly bound bundle." she rubbed her neck as she spoke, remembering how it felt to have the leather cord snap against her skin, her labours so easily plucked from her grasp.

Radagon nodded, recalling the irony of finding god given relics in a mundane herbalist's pouch. His eyes settled over her throat for a moment, his mind easily drawn back to their duel when she donned her armour again.

"Where is Miquella interred, you spoke of him being under Mohg's custody when you slew the omen. Did the fell twins orchestrate this?" Radagon grimaced, at the thought.

"No. Mohg stole Miquella unaided by Morgott, and established residence in what became Mohgwyn Castle, the quoted birthplace of his dynasty under the patronage of the Formless Mother." Elia pulled Radagon from his stewing quickly, "...Morgott was the most loyal to your Golden Order of all the demigods in the end, stewarding Leyndell and protecting the entrance to the Erdtree. If he hadn't been the last bulwark, likely the Erdtree's thorns would have been burned away by another Tarnished before I had even been given grace."

Radagon stared as if she had grown a second head, unblinking and silent before choking out, "What?"

"Morgott, the Last King." She spoke of his title with begrudging respect, "Believe me or not, it does not change that he lived and died in service to Queen Marika in spite of his imprisonment." Snapping the reins, she prompted Torrent into a gallop, leaving Radagon alone in his thoughts.

His protest died in his throat as she rode off along the path, slowing a ways ahead and just in sight. Dragging his hands down his face, Radagon exhaled a shaking breath.

How had an omen of ruin been his last soldier to defend the Erdtree? A hint of pride rose in his chest despite it all, even when he posed no claim to Morgott, he was still the fractured half of the man's mother. Radagon was a father to a host of dead or mutilated children, with fleeting examples of actions to take pride in. Likely, the two demigods remaining alive would be the only children he would have, unless a miracle graced him with Rennala's affection.

Would he even want it? Was he worthy of her still? Hope begged him to say yes, yet reality painted a different picture entirely.

This was a farewell, one that at best could end on civil terms and Rennala a more lucid woman by the end of his visit. Stars help him if she turned the full weight of her majesty and ire upon him. Her rage would make Elia's disdain feel as gentle as a lover's embrace by contrast.

Raya Lucaria was still a trek of several days ahead of them, and it did no good to stew alone when Elia had answers to his brewing questions. Quickening his stride, he hurried to rejoin her and Torrent. It was a small bit of relief to find her to be true to her word, she'd ridden no more than perhaps half a mile ahead, slowing Torrent to a cantor when she heard his footsteps draw near.

This was the most at ease Radagon had seen Elia be, hair a mess and the sun on her face which invited a warmth she'd lacked in the Erdtree Sanctum or within Leyndell. The expression was fleeting as her eyes settled on him, "Are you alright?" Radagon nodded, "I am."

Note: A painting of Elia's general armor set and appearance.

Respite

The remainder of their day passed in amicable silence, Radagon daring to let his mind wander beyond the forefront of his anxieties. His thoughts fell to the Tarnished, who else could be awaiting her in Liurnia, if not one but two of her companions were in residence at the academy and expected her to return. It seemed peculiar to him that Elia acted as if she had run of the place, enough so that she saw it as a safe refuge. Perhaps Rennala lacked the mind or temperament to contest her guests so long as she remained undisturbed?

"Why did the Academy become your home?" Radagon questioned, drawing Elia's gaze over to him.

"...Once Rennala was dealt with and proved to be harmless if unbothered, I rooted out the graven mages that prowled the grounds. Your wolves were more of a bother than them."

"They were tasked to keep her and Ranni safe." Radagon mused, "They gave you trouble I hope?"

She huffed and lightly kicked his side, "I nearly had my leg torn off by two of them, mind you."

Laughter filled the air, his voice swelling with pride, "They were intended to be difficult, you survived them and that is what matters. Is that why your left leg seemed to expire quicker than your right during our duel?"

Elia felt bare and seen in that moment, "...That was the leg they bit, yes."

"Remind me to peruse the library for the proper potion to mend musculature, your mage was neglectful to not mend that for you."

"Sella isn't my nursemaid." Elia countered, "I can't expect her to mend every deficiency I suffer from old wounds."

"Your companions are indebted in a variety of ways to your labours." Radagon cast her a sidelong glance, "A chronic injury is nothing to scoff at, and impeded you in combat. If they benefit from your charity, you deserve to reap the benefits in return." "You aren't one to lend aid without a contractual benefit, are you?" Elia muttered.

"Not as generously as you, no." Radagon shook his head, "...How many did you help?"

"I don't tally every favor I do…I helped Fia, Millicent, and Sella with the most care though." she murmured.

"Fia?" He raised a brow, "You haven't spoken of her before."

"The deathbed companion." Elia murmured, "I don't imagine her role was celebrated by the Golden Order."

"No, not when death was excised from the land." Radagon sighed, "Is she still with you?"

Elia shook her head , "...She was nearly assaulted before I intervened, she sleeps still with Godwyn's corpse."

Radagon halted, "You left her with his body, and trust her to not abuse her position as a consort?"

"I do, because she was seeking to do the same thing I was, to fix the world in the ways that were available for us. Her rune wasn't left for the taking, however, I'm no fool." she murmured.

"I didn't find a foreign rune within your pouch," Radagon frowned, "Where is it, and why did you not bring it with you to incorporate into the ring?"

Elia gave a sad smile, "Because I don't yet know if death is something I can swallow just yet, but I wished for Fia to fulfill her goal…I don't know yet if I'll use the rune or not."

Radagon pinched the bridge of his nose, "You have a bleeding heart for the most volatile of cases, Elia. Do not graft another rune into yourself, not in your infancy." "Would you stop me?" She asked.

"Without question," he eyed her with an exasperated sigh, "We'll be making camp soon."

"You need the rest?"

"No, but you do." Radagon corrected and guided Torrent by the reins towards a clearing amidst the thicket of gnarled trees.

Their camp was a humble affair of a singular tent, a shelter they proved grateful for as the weather gave way to mist and rain.

Elia's armor already was cast off, the woman combing her loose locks with previously unseen care as Radagon watched her.

The ivory comb's teeth were thick and elongated to rake through her thick waves, her hair remarkably long when released from its braid to fall past her hips. An unremarkable brown with notes of gold, she wasn't pale or golden as Marika, far from it with mismatched eyes and sharp teeth befitting that of a hound, that often snagged her lower lip when she scowled in contemplation.

"How have you kept that braid intact through your journey?" he wondered, and she stiffened as she met his gaze, realizing only then how intently he had been staring.

"Carefully," she deadpanned, "Losing a braid is an immense shame, and I spent well over a year regrowing it when it was cut." "Was it defiled?" Radagon frowned at the thought.

"...Yes, when I lost my grace." she murmured.

"You've not spoken of that, when did you lose your grace?" Radagon asked, "I don't see you as someone of ill repute to have defiled the order's tenants."

"...I wish I could tell you why. I fought loyally, there was peace between Leyndell and Liurnia before Godfrey was banished and I protected those who were powerless against the fickle kings and monsters the order hadn't yet stamped out. My grace left me amidst one of those campaigns." Elia's shoulders slumped, "It is a foggy time to recall that hasn't returned to me as easily as other memories have."

"You speak of most of your life with such clarity." Radagon nodded, "You remember your parentage and village, your race even."

"I try not to dwell on forgotten things." she murmured, "I can't mourn pieces of myself I'll never know were absent."

"And the pieces you do remember that you no longer can return to?" he asked, his tone turning somber. His gaze fell to his lap, fists clenched at the thought of wat awaited him. Rennala, oh what would she do with him when he knelt before her again? What would she have to say? Would she have half a mind to converse with even?

"...I keep walking and look to see what I can still change." She lightly lifted his chin, "Keep your gaze high, Elden Lord. It does you no service to lament."

Radagon settled his face into her palm with a sigh, "If you insist, Elia."

The House of the Moon

Raya Lucaria, Radagon recalled his last gift to the institution with the warding sigil meant to make the academy a fortress if

Rennala's safety ever became an uncertainty. He'd never taught or lectured, yet he would have thought he played a role in the Academy's formation for that brief blissful peace. As an avid student and learner, when war was abandoned, he set his soldiers and campaign to more fruitful prospects. Fortifying the gatehouses of the academy and Carian manor, hunting down rarer manuscripts and artefacts for Rennala and her cohort to transcribe and preserve… It was nice to have built something and be grafted into a foreign land as a respected colleague.

He wasn't the divested grafting of Marika. He had been Rennala's equal and protector. He had been loved.

His heart ached, and his pace was telling of that fact, he leaned a bit into Torrent, only having half a mind to bat the horse away when the steed attempted to chomp on his braid, "Elia, your horse is a demon and fell omen for your hair."

Her smile was almost infectious as she patted Torrent's neck in encouragement, "Good boy." The steed tossed his mane back in obvious pride.

Radagon glowered, "You grackle." Even then, he kept close to the horse and its rider. Tentatively, he reached for Elia's leg, his large hand settling over her thigh. Mercifully, she didn't kick out at him, but sent him a firm look and a raised brow to explain himself.

"...Is there any hope of imploring you to accompany me to see Rennala?" He quickly retracted his hand.

"...Explain what it is you want me to do." she pressed, willing to hear him out at least.

"Stay within earshot if she were to turn the library into a battleground?" he muttered uncertainly. Elia groaned into her hands, "Fine, but I'll be annoyed through the whole affair."

"Thank you." Radagon thanked the stars that her sense of charity extended even to him.

The halls were quiet, as expected with so few occupants, yet it was a stark contrast to the height of the Carian court and intellectual community. It made even Radagon feel small as he walked alongside Elia as she led him along familiar paths, ever closer to the heavy scent of aged parchment and vellum. Yet there were faults in the image versus what he remembered of the Academy. Renalla had favoured jasmine and lilies, not the many plants of roses and lavender that had grown unkempt and voluminous in Elia's absence in the last month.

He thumbed at a rosebud, arching a brow at the blue hue. When Elia peered over her shoulder, her cheeks darkened, "...I thought to make the place a bit more habitable when Sella took up residence."

"Blue roses?" he questioned, extending a bloom to her, "Pray tell how did you manage that?"

"They grew in my village." she sighed at the sentimentality of her aesthetics being laid bare as she took the long stemmed rose, "Can you tolerate them at least?"

"I never disliked them." He corrected her and moved onwards towards the library.

The heavyset doors loomed, and with no detours left to take, Radagon sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as sweat beaded down his brow, "...don't follow, just, stay close?" His words were stilted and awkward, as if beseeching aid was a foreign novelty to him.

Elia reached to pat his arm, "Shout and I'll be running, but you need to do this or you'll never live down your shame."

Radagon rested his hand over hers for a scant moment, dangerously close to cradling it. He nodded, and wrested the doors open.

Rennala awaited.

In the dim candlelight, Rennala resembled the sepia washed memories of a bygone age. The Queen of the Full Moon was seated in the center of the room, ensconced with a few stacks of books here and there as the amber egg rested in her lap. Her nose buried in a tome, Radagon stared as his voice died in his throat.

Had Rennala been tended to by the occupants of the Academy, and why? Cushions and a few blankets littered the floor, the queen had been thought of even as she was given a wide berth by Sella. When the doors closed, Rennala lifted her head and spoke in hushed tones, "Tarnished, dost thou return?" There was warmth in those words, and it bled from her in an instant as her eyes settled on red hair and eyes touched by grace.

An errant glance at Millicent's mop of scarlet hair had been enough to make Rennala tense and reclusive, an incident that didn't bear repeating in Elia's experience. The sight of Radagon made Rennala venomous despite the weight of grief.

"Craven man, thou dare trespass upon these lands once more?!" She wouldn't breathe his name, Rennala rose with her sceptre summoned and clutched in hand, "Hath the Golden Queen eternal finally hath her fill of thee?"

Radagon knelt, head dipped and his heart racing, "...Y…Your highness, I only hope to return what is yours and to convey how sorry I am for how this ended," slowly and with reverential care, he unsheathed the greatsword from his back, and laid the blade between him and Rennala. "...Please, I implore you to live on and find a consort worthy of you. I ask neither for forgiveness nor mercy, for I am undeserving of it. The House of Caria has suffered more than enough at my hands."

"Thou speaks boldly, as if you can yet comprehend the damage mine kingdom hath suffered from thine actions."

"I do not claim to, yet Rennala-" Radagon winced as she lunged forward to grip his throat, blue eyes ablaze with fury and contempt. His courage withered on the vine.

"Do not think to be so familiar with me!" She hissed, nose to nose with Radagon, "Our daughter is gone, our sons fouled or slain!

What restitution could thou hope to offer?" Radagon shrank further with each shout.

"...Ranni yet lives, Elia relayed as such to me-"

"...the Tarnished spoke with thee?" Rennala's expression softened her in confusion, taken aback by his words and the mention of Ranni, "Explain thyself, quickly."

"...Ranni survives in a flesh that is not her own, and resides near our family home. Please, carry on for her sake, Rennala, not all

is lost."

"What badgering did thou commit to pry such information from our tarnished," Rennala curtly questioned.

"...She told me many things during and since our duel." He admitted.

Her expression pinched, her gaze turning into one of intense scrutiny, "What forces compelled thy to fight one another?" Radagon grew quiet, unsure if it was wise to have mentioned Elia in association with him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, he would not lie to Rennala, and hoped Elia would forgive his transparency.

"She was ready to become Elden Lord, and thus we crossed paths in combat." He explained.

"She bested thee?" The queen questioned, doubt clear in her voice. She knew her husband's prowess in battle, and her fleeting periods of lucidity allowed her to recall how well Elia could fight, yet the girl was not a conqueror.

"No." He shook his head, "I won our duel."

Radahn had glorified Godfrey, yet much of his prowess and inborn skill had been in his blood, regardless of the fashion the General styled himself in. Mercy hadn't been a part of Radagon's constitution, the tarnished should be dead to rights for having dared reach for the Elden Ring from her husband. Rennala's expression sharpened, "What transpired between you both, and why hath thou finally left Marika's cohort?"

So it was the truth then, Radagon weighed his words carefully, "...Marika is expunged, her rule no longer presides over the land.

I am still Elden Lord with Godfrey slain by the Tarnished."

"...The Erdtree has always held a goddess as its champion since we met, who fills that seat?" Rennala drew back from him then, contemplative at the changing nature of the world.

"The Tarnished." Radagon didn't dare speak Elia's name with the realisation that was to come.

Silence hung heavy between them.

Radagon hadn't shouted.

Yet.

Elia lingered down the hallway, out of sight and only distantly hearing Rennala speak with more vigor and emotion than she had ever been witness to. She was nearly thrown off her feet by the rumbling of bookshelves flying and splintering into broken fragments. She swore and braced herself against a column, panicked and her eyes wide as she realised; someone had to pull Radagon away from a raging Queen before she collapsed a wing of the academy. That someone would have to be her unfortunately.

She sprinted towards the library.

Radagon was thrown into a bookshelf from the kinetic wave rippling from Rennala as she seethed, the rush of gravitational magic toppling shelves and books in its momentum. Splinters scraped his face and before he could rise, Rennala's foot braced against his chest to pin him, the sceptre levelled for his face and charged with another spell.

"Thou art a foul dog, Radagon." Rennala hissed, "That girl, how could she have been willing?!"

Her indignation was of a calibre that surprised him, "...I needed a consort, lest Marika be unshackled!"

"How fitting thou wouldst divest thyself of responsibility in the name of duty or desperation, Radagon." she cooly uttered, "Get out of my sight."

It would have been the end of that exchange, it should have been, but Rennala's gaze flicked towards the movement in her periphery. Elia laboured for breath as she stood in the entrance, her eyes fixed on Radagon.

Rennala tensed, "Tarnished. What accord dost thou possess with him." she jabbed her sceptre towards Radagon in accusation, "Hath he laid harm to thee?"

Elia blinked, her heartbeat faltering as the Queen awaited her answer.

Temperance and Patience

Elia's throat went dry as she held Rennala's gaze, she nodded.

Yes, Radagon had harmed her, defiled her very person to become Marika's replacement.

"...He did something reprehensible, and was as desperate as you were once, your magesty." Elia wrung her wrists, "Please allow me to explain."

Her hands gently rested over Rennala's, coaxing her to lower the sceptre as Radagon rose to a kneel, disheveled and staring at Elia intensely.

Those eyes were wild, his throat tight as he watched the women converse.

Elia seemed well practiced in calming Rennala, coaxing the taller woman back towards the cushions and books, sitting across from the Carian queen on a hefty stack of tomes.

"...My skills as a swordsman are second rate to your husband." Elia murmured with a dry chuckle.

"He is not mine." Rennala countered quietly.

"Radagon won our duel...the last of the demigods that could do harm or posture with the power of a great rune were finished...and a dear friend of mine needs help sooner than later for her sickness." Elia sighed, "I dove into this situation unprepared for a fight. I expected perhaps a weary Marika, a desperate party looking for a way out." "...Radagon hath been imprisoned with the queen?"

"In a sense. Bound with her as two aspects of the same greater being. His was the stronger will to contest my approach and defend the Erdtree's golden order."

Rennala bit her knuckles with a hitch in her breath, not daring to interrupt as the cogs in her mind turned.

"...Marika shattered the Elden Ring upon the death of Godwyn...Radagon had once tried to repair it, and was willing to attempt the task again. Yet Marika could not remain. Restoring her to power would simply repeat this cycle of her erratic will breaking the world."

Rennala reached to take Elia's chin in her hand, "Thou art no longer tarnished, thoust bears the mantle of golden glory."

"...By Radagon's skills as an architect, yes. He wrested me into the same echelon as him." Elia sighed, "I..I never hoped to rob you of him."

"Hush thine worries," Rennala dipped her head, gripping a fistful of her velvet robes, she shook her head and removed her towering crown.

Dark hair spilled in a stream of waves down her back, "Taketh caution with him, lest your crown become your noose." Rennala cast a glare over her shoulder, "I haveth words for thine bride alone, begone."

Radagon stared much like a gaping fish, blinking once, then twice before Rennala scowled. A book struck his forehead, hurled with surprisingly acute aim from the Carian Queen, "Leave!"

Radagon hissed and held his brow, scrambling to leave the library with a parting glance directed to the pair.

The doors slammed shut, and Elia peered up to the woman. She understood then where Ranni's enduring poise stemmed from.

"...Tarn- no. Elia?" she murmured quietly.

Elia nodded, "Yes ma'am." She never expected such a magnificent woman to say her name, her cheeks were flushed at the sound of her name leaving Rennala's lips.

"Elia, do you intend to aid Radagon?" Rennala murmured.

She sighed, "We're in a partnership of mutual convenience and confusion. I need a consort...and I'd rather have his knowledge than not."

"I thought his love was eternal. He left me for...himself?" Rennala shook her head, "Do not give your whole self to him, not as I did. Years spent mourning him...my sons are gone. My daughter...will she look me in the eye?"

"..Rennala?" Elia tentatively addressed her by name. A subtle nod voiced the Queen's approval, "Ranni's adoration and love for you is more enduring than the law of the elden ring. She has always carried your memory with her."

Rennala cupped Elia's cheek, "...Be careful in Radagon's company. I hath a request of thee..."

"You need only ask."

"...Remember Liurnia as a home to thee, and keep the grace of the moon in thine heart."

"My order will never choke out the culture of your people, I will not be Marika's successor."

Rennala nodded, "Do not make thineself a stranger, Elia?"

"I won't...this academy is terribly close to feeling like a home. I only ask that you don't harm Millicent and give Sella the berth to conduct her research."

Rennala's expression tightened, "An ex alumni and girl tainted by rot. Thou asks much of me..." She stared Elia down, sighing,

"Very well. But expunge the rot from her body soon, and thine teacher must respect the sanctity of this place."

"I will make haste, and Sella is far from a gambling woman after what I had to do for her."

"Then I will honor our terms." Rennala glanced at the doors, "...Are you certain of traveling with him, two of us may overtake him."

Her chest tightened, and Elia slowly shook her head, "...If he should be a tyrant, I will gladly take your offer. For now, I'm willing to see if he can adapt."

Rennala nodded, squeezing Elia's shoulder, "Then go to your consort. He's terrible at festering in his worries alone."

Elia took her words to heart, pausing only to glance to the remains of the amber egg. She froze, realizing what cracked underfoot were those very shards.

"Do not fret for it. It is an empty thing, I will go to my child..."

"Then I'll direct Radagon elsewhere. We have Miquella to account for."*

"Thank you."

Elia dipped her head, and departed.

Rennala managed a bittersweet smile, watching the queen leave as the doors softly shut in her wake.

Radagon felt as if Elia had slashed his stomach and let him slip on his own entrails. Rennala knew everything now.

He was not Marika, not presently, his marriage and children hadn't been her work and love, they were his. The thought of her image muddled with his in his former wife's mind made him sick as he paced and gripped fistfuls of his hair.

Why did he drag that Tarnished here. He would have taken Rennala's abuse and fury, how was it Elia's place to play mediator, to command Rennala's attention and respect?

He halted, shaking with the uncomfortable truth.

She came for him, would have defended him even perhaps. Rennala in her wisdom and lucidity wasn't a raging and confused woman.

Her logic and grace gave her a shrewd mind, and cleaved into the messy nuances of his actions. He half expected Elia to turn on him, a Carian Queen in her right mind was a powerful ally.

He didn't know how to settle on the thought of Elia as a bride.

They had a partnership, a tolerance that verged on friendly here and there, he didn't let his mind wander much with her. Regimented and tidily seen as a fellow soldier, that made sense to him. Elia had spilled onto a nebulous series of possibility in his mind.

"Radagon?" She ran towards him with an urgency in her step.

He stiffened, slowly turning to face her, "Elia...your talks ended smoothly."

"Yes...thankfully." She nodded, "...I have someone you should see, we'll have a bit of privacy as well." She beckoned him forward.

Privacy?

His mind began to wander as he followed her in silence. The academy was a sprawling complex with many rooms, rooms that were easy to abscond away to with a partner.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing himself to get his mind out of the gutter.

Stars help him, the woman was well over a foot shorter than Rennala. Radagon had the suspicion that Elia was too practical to bed a man of his size than risk being injured.

...Was she?

Patron of the Lost Cause

He trailed after Elia, tentatively reaching to hold the hem of her cloak.

She faltered, peering over her shoulder to him, "Yes?"

"...Privacy, you wanted to discuss something alone?" He questioned softly.

"Y-Yes, I did," she cocked her head at his uncertain disposition, "About where we should travel after I finish my task here."

He blinked, apparently having expected a different response as he rubbed his neck, "Ah, I see. Yes we should discuss that length…"

"We will, but first, you'll be meeting someone I desperately need your help to mend…you knew your son better than I could through his work and secondary accounts."

"Rennala mentioned a girl afflicted by rot. You speak of Miquella's work pertaining to unalloyed gold?"

Elia paused, "..You were aware, and never intervened?"

"The boy wanted to save his sister," Radagon crossed his arms, "I am many things, but I won't raise a hand to my children.

Miquella…he posed no militaristic threat to the order, who am I to spurn a tool that would drive away the god of rot?"

Elia snorted, before laughter spilled from her lips, muffled by her hands. Radagon frowned, looming over her with a scowl, "And how is that amusing to you?"

"Y-You're quite hypocritical about your codes when it pertains to family, Radagon. It's a charming chip in the godly facade is all." Elia patted his arm affectionately, and he felt as if lightning ran through his limb with how she rendered him speechless.

The room had the sterile scent of vinegar and caustic cleaning reagents, and when Elia entered, it was with a linen mask drawn over her nose and mouth. By her insistence, Radagon wore one as well, and peered at the sight in the bed.

His breath faltered at the visage of the girl. Loose locks of red, an aquiline nose, long limbed and graced with the form of a swordswoman in her lithe structure. Malenia had resembled this in her adolescence, before her eyes had succumbed to the rot, and she had her legs still.

"...This isn't Malenia." he whispered, glancing to Elia in confirmation.

"No…but someone horrifically bound to her scarlet aeonia. I don't understand the connection entirely, but the resemblance was uncanny, I agree." she murmured, "This is Millicent, I wouldn't have known to pursue Miquella if not for her affliction."

Gowry's ramblings had been footed in truth with a motivation Elia failed to fully understand. She understood a few things about the man's constitution. He worshiped the notion of rot, and perhaps Malenia's sundering of Caelid into a poisonous waste was the birth of Millicent and her sisters. The girl deserved more than a half life, and to be loved than a pawn to the addled man.

Millicent had skirted death once at the brace of the haligtree, willing to indulge a fleeting hope of Elia's that perhaps there were more answers to be found with Malenia so close. By either grace or luck, her scarlet fever had broken by morning, and they prepared to face the Valkyrie together.

"...She traveled with you?" Radagon raised a brow, "You could have been infected."

"...Her life could very well be on borrowed time, as was mine." Elia murmured, "You think less of death in some ways when you've died once already, Radagon. Her time and life is worth something, and she was willing to accompany me to the

Haligtree…you do have her to thank. I fought Mohg in her company in the hope of finding Miquella." Elia murmured, "..Who else would I have learned and practiced the waterfowl stance with." her voice welled with pride as she gripped Millicent's hand.

The poor girl was unresponsive, her arms bandaged and the pinprick of gold glinting in the candlelight within her inner wrist,

"...Unalloyed gold." Radagon murmured, "You're delaying an inevitable rot, one or ten of those needles would net the same result."

Elia sucked in a sharp breath, "...You elevated me to godhood, would you be willing to try to save her?"

Radagon leveled a firm look to her, "I cannot make something from nothing, but there is a process to foist off the interference of an outer god and bind her to you. You yet lack the last component to secure your position as a goddess." "Please tell me."

"You need a shadow. Dare I say it, she seems loyal enough to be the prime candidate."

"...Would it purge the rot?"

"It may sever the connection to the outer god, what festers inside her will be another matter to contend with. Yet it will be a confined sickness without the vestigial trace of a god hoping to spur her into blooming another Aeonia."

Elia winced, and murmured, "...She has bloomed, twice now."

Radagon stepped back, wide eyed and tugging Elia back with him as he slung an arm around her waist, "Twice?!"

"...She took the blow Malenia intended for me. The demigod's tainted blood marked her blade…" Elia whispered. Her heart racing as she was gripped firmly against Radagon's chest, "I-Its alright…she bloomed, and that transformation fueled her through the remainder of the duel…She kept pace with Malenia's aerial attacks, I was able to bleed and fend her away when her wings were finally dismembered."

"...And the second instance?"

"Mohg." Elia swore his name with utter contempt. Radagon turned her about to face him, brows furrowed as she elaborated, "...The Lord of Blood, he had the patronage of the formless mother…a god who's will disagrees heavily with rot. Millicent didn't bloom of her own accord when she was dealt Mohg's curse of blood. I-It was desperate and erratic to see her flay Mohg's horns from his skull…and she wasn't quite herself in that battle. As for Mohg, he was mincemeat between the both of us. However, Millicent was wounded, and the rot is close to taking her leg now."

"...I assisted Miquella in forging the limbs he drafted for Malenia. Remove the afflicted limbs, and we will consecrate her as your shadow." He still held her by the shoulders, "...Will you consent to this?"

Elia swallowed hard, peering up at him with parted lips as she settled her hands over his arms, "I will ask her, but yes. I agree with the plan."

Unseen by the pair, Millicent stirred with a pained wheeze, bracing her armored arm against the mattress as she tried to sit upright, "E..Elia, you returned!"

Elia whirled from Radagon's arms in an instant, and was tugged into a weak embrace by the smaller woman, "How…How have you been? Are you getting enough sunlight and fresh air?"

Millicent nodded, "I feel less addled, Lady Sella's potions calmed the worst of the fevers."

The same potions dripped into her bloodstream intravenously, slowly from the mounted glass instruments, "...Did you win, and find a new friend?"

An innocent question with no simple answer, Elia shook her head, "I negotiated…and found myself entering a pact with this man.

Would you introduce yourself?"

Radagon lamely glanced from Milicent to Elia, bluntly announcing, "Radagon of the Golden Order, consort to Elia." The silence that ensued was smothering.

Millicent buried her face in her hands, "I'd like to go back to bed now."

The door was sharply opened, a robed mage striding between Elia and Radagon and pointing to the entryway, "Get out before you've stressed the child into another fever, both of you. I expect details later, my pupil."

In the span of a few seconds Elia buckled at the directive of her teacher's order, and tugged Radagon out before a second person could have the novel idea of chasing him away with a well aimed book.

Strange Bedfellows

After being hounded out of Millicent's room by Sellen, Elia and Radagon lingered uncomfortably in the hallway. He cleared his throat to interrupt the silence, "...Where do you reside when you stay at Raya Lucaria?"

"Oh, I can show you." Elia took his hand and tugged him along, "You'll need a space to call your own," she murmured.

Radagon winced, "I won't test my luck with Rennala."

"Even the divine need rest." Elia countered, "The bed is fairly large, it'll accommodate you." "...Are you inviting me to share your quarters?" Radagon stared.

"We've shared a tent for a week and you've seen me bathe." she deadpanned, knowing full well the occupational hazards of travelling in close quarters, "Is it such a scandal?"

"I expected more reluctance."

"You've been better mannered since leaving Leyndell. I react accordingly to hospitality, Radagon."

"If we are sharing quarters, then I'll treat your leg tonight." he muttered, "I won't have an old injury encumbering you. It's only a matter of time before you rush headlong into a brawl."

"Then you'd best find that book you promised to search for." Elia's expression lifted into a small smile. Radagon dipped his head, "I am a man of my word, Elia."

Radagon paused at the room Elia had taken for herself.

It was nice, luxurious even. Likely it had been the quarters of a dean or tenured professor with the number of magelights illuminating the room more than simple candles. Blue flame complimented the black and blue velvet drapes, and she seemed to have left the shelves in the midst of a reorganisation effort. Two shelves had been fully alphabetized and separated by subject, a miscellaneous stack of books weeded from the collection in their ambiguity or irrelevance. He lingered, finding a surprising bulk of histories and theatrical work in her collection, finding a few books entirely of sheet music along the lower shelves.

For its grand furnishings, the room was a simple footprint. Floor to ceiling length windows granted a view of the Liurnian countryside, paralleled by equally tall shelving and a small railed balcony to allow easier access to the upper collection. The door immediately opened into a sitting area of plush rugs and salvaged furniture Elia would have been diminutive to sit within. Stars help her, some of this may have graced his and Renalla's chambers once.

Luxurious furniture however was at a premium, and Elia cared only to be warm and comfortable in the few nights she could stand to relax. She hadn't been wrong with the bed either, it was a tall canopied thing with royal blue drapes that had been meticulously mended, its blankets interspersed with a random collection of pelts she must have collected in her travels. From polar furs to doeskin, she wouldn't be cold even when winter set in, likely only a few weeks away now.

He eyed the sheets, knowing there were multiple ways to stave off the cold or kill idle hours. He deserved another book to the face with the images his mind conjured. Blissfully, it was only the crackling flames of a hearth being lit that called his attention elsewhere. Elia waved to the room, "Well, your thoughts on the accommodations?"

"...I've never thought to realise you have a taste for the opulent when given the chance to indulge. Your quarters are lovely."

Radagon nodded to the collection of books, "...you're curating a collection of your own as well?"

Elia nodded, "If the library has duplicates, yes. Some of these weren't in the collection either….I have a dozen or so that'll need to be replicated before rot takes them entirely."

"...Why here?" Radagon murmured.

"I don't understand the question, what do you mean?"

"Your time was of the essence, why did you spend so much of it here of all places?" Radagon stared at her, "I don't imagine the academy was an inviting place when you first found it."

"No, but my father lived and died here, and this country is still my home." She replied simply, "You seem more at ease here than in Leyndell. Surely you feel the same."

Radagon was at a loss for words, pinching the bridge of his nose with a tight sigh, "I'm going to get that book for you, just… rest."

Radagon paced the aisles with a tense set of his shoulders, still proficient at combing the collection in his shelf readings. Where was that book?

The Compendium of Healing was a dry, dreadful slog of text that held the begrudging respect of healers for its viability as a source of study. Comprehensive in its examination of anatomy and the illness of injury. It was also an ornately decorated manuscript as dense as a slab of flagstone to heave. When Radagon finally found it, recognizing its faded crimson binding and flaking gold gilding, he hefted the book into his arms with a grunt. Healing Elia was worth the effort, but he would be vocal in his annoyance with this book.

A small figure blocked his path, dark hair fastened at the nape of her neck, faint lines marking her mouth and eyes. Radagon recognized her face from the portraits of Raya Lucaria's professors, and from this evening as he was hounded from Millicent's room. Sorceress Sellen.

"Elden Lord, a word if you please." Her tone brooked no argument.

"I have plans." Radagon muttered.

"They will wait, I need only a few minutes of your time." Sellen approached, "You've ensconced yourself in the good graces of my student. Why, and how? She wouldn't have been to blame for Rennala's outburst today."

Radagon tensed, his grip on the book tightening, "...She holds the ring. I am simply her consort as Elden Lord."

Sellen gripped her stave with a tightening expression, "Now I see why the library is in shambles then. Tell me, why does Elia tolerate your presence, much less trust you?"

"I don't fully understand her sense of goodwill and charity, I only know that she is willing to collaborate with me if I show her the same deference, which I have."

"Tread carefully, Lordling." Sellen seemed unconvinced, yet even she lacked the gall to attack him unprompted. It was jarring enough to hear her student had been married in such a short absence and the urgency of Millicent's affliction. She could only hope Elia acted wisely with him.

Radagon huffed in dismissal, tucking the book under his arm and hurriedly making his way back towards Elia's room. In a small bit of luck, he didn't cross paths with Rennala, slipping into the chamber unscathed.

Elia had made herself quite comfortable in Radagon's absence. A bath to soak her knee, pumice to work away the worst of the grime from travelling, and lotions to soften her skin from weeks of travel. When he returned it was to see her propped up on the chaise with her hair freshly washed and the scent of citrus lingering in the room. Donning a robe and slip, she made for a pretty sight.

Radagon slipped inside with little preamble, "Elia I found the book, misfiled and buried in the wrong wing of all places-" He paused, raking his eyes over her bare legs, "Ah. You're clean."

"Yes, and you can be as well if you're so inclined, the tub is in the other room," she pointed towards the arched door that nearly disappeared into the wooden moulding, "I found a few robes that may fit you, if you're partial to black."

"It will do." he nodded, "...the bathwater is still warm?"

"If you don't dawdle, yes. Enchantments only last so long." She instructed, Radagon huffed, "I'm hardly filthy."

"You travelled for five days and had a stream to bathe in, wash." Elia lightly kicked his leg, "Or you can take the couch." Radagon raised his hands in mock surrender, "Fine, fine, no need to beat me to death." Elia's laughter followed him as he departed.

The hot bath had been pleasant, and he savoured the convenience of Elia's spellwork to keep a tub warm. Apparently Elia had a fondness for citrus by the myriad of soaps and shampoos she had. The scent of lemons in particular lingered in his hair, and he stepped out in one of the robes Elia had fished out for him, draping blue silk clashing sharply with his red locks. Gold eyes flicked across the room, finding Elia still ensconced with her blankets and book.

Radagon moved to join her, perhaps relishing her peep in surprise a bit too much as he lifted her legs and took a seat at the foot of the chaise, her legs draped over his lap. He hefted the compendium from its place on the end table and eyed her knee. With a wince, he realised hadn't exaggerated what the wolves had done to her. Teeth marks littered her lower calf and knee, as if her whole leg had been in the jaws of a wolf at one point.

"...you've been fighting on an ill healed leg for how long?" He sent her a reprimanding look.

Elia shrank back into her blankets, "...A few months, give or take."

"Elia," He sighed , "The next time you're injured, come to me." He held her leg under his calloused palm, idly paging for the particular spell in the book.

"I will," she murmured, "...You look good."

"Mn?" He frowned, "Pardon?"

"You look nice when you're clean, your hair certainly benefits." "Red hair is hardly a good omen." He reminded.

"I'm not an old wise woman thinking the world will be razed in fire if the crow caws thrice at midnight on the full moon." She retorted.

"No, you're too defiant to bow to superstition." he muttered, "Try not to move as I read the incantation."

The scarring on Elia's knee lifted by the time the incantation was recited in its entirety, half an hour of Radagon reciting an antiquated Carian dialect that even Rennala wouldn't speak in frequently. Elia had been lulled into a sluggish drowsiness, close to passing out on the chaise then and there.

Radagon took it upon himself to carry her to bed, daring to trust that she wouldn't bite his hand this time. What he hadn't expected was her instinct to cling to the nearest source of heat like a leech.

His current predicament was a laughable one, being unable to untangle a clinging woman from his chest without waking her. Radagon knew firsthand, Elia was a night owl staying up far too late to stargaze or read, having gotten her to bed this early was a godsend that he refused to squander. So, he resigned himself to her surprise and indignation when she awoke against his chest, her thighs straddling his hips. Idly, he ran a hand through her hair and appreciated its softness, "Never change, you grackle."

Hail to the Queen

Sunlight crept into the room as an unwelcome invader. Radagon still lay in the depths of sleep, Elia sprawled in the bed and her face buried in his shoulder. She was the first to awake, groaning in confusion as she pushed herself upright, pausing at the feel of a pectoral under her palm.

Bug eyed and tense, she stared at the sleeping man, caught like a deer in the aim of a crossbow. Slowly, she slipped away from him, sitting at the edge of the bed and awaiting him to awake and do….something, anything really. Yet he still slept, and she was alone in her thoughts. Elia did the logical thing and slipped from the bed, intending to let him sleep as she set about her morning routine.

The Red King continued to dream,

Radagon didn't often dream. No more than simply to have his mind's eye linger in the sepia tinted haze of memory.

This felt terribly concrete, to be in the sanctum of the Erdtree, the starry cosmos looming overhead as the groove of golden Erd trees encircled the reflective arena. The anvil still loomed, his hammer resting in its wielder's lap.

Golden locks, statuesque shoulders, and a stern face glared at her other half, "You've found yourself another woman to ruin?" She rested her cheek in her hand, "How many have to die so that you can feel loved, Radagon?" She had the languid grace of a lioness, her skin pale as alabaster and lacking its flush as it held in life when she walked the lands.

"Those words are rich, to be echoed from your lips." Radagon strode forward. His ire for Marika was a tired and troubled routine worn often as armor.

Marika was a fractured thing as she sat, lacking her lower leg, an arm only a spectral construct as its shoulder remained crumbling stone. Ah, so this is what remained of her, clinging to his rune and remains of a connection he failed to sever. His lips split into a proud grin, defiant and indignant as ever, "You look worse than I did when Elia found us."

"So this pet has a name." she huffed, "Why do you hope to rebuild your order on a Tarnished abandoned by grace? Must you fail three wives in your meager existence, Radagon?"

"Better her than you." He set his jaw, sooner willing to be courted by the formless mother than his fellow flesh ever again, "You would have made a pawn of her if given the chance."

"And yet you persist as a consort, you fool. Blood of my blood, wretch of my own flesh. Why do you exist in a world that rejects us, slaughters our children? Let the mortals rot, or burn in the embrace of another divine."

"For the same reason you try to form a consciousness in this pitiful half-life. I want to live…and for once, to exist beyond your sins." Radagon hissed, "My happiness was undone by your fickle decision to drive off Godfrey." He clenched his fists and eyed Marika with open disdain.

"Your happiness was a delusion of a romance." Marika scoffed, "You tested an unknown variable to great success."

"Only to yield two burdened and afflicted children." Radagon's gaze turned deadly, "You held a respectable heir in Godwyn, and a formidable husband in Godfrey. He never would have strayed from you."

"And you had a rival pawn in Ranni, a partner of majesty in Rennala. Did you think I would let that girl and your wife conspire in Liurnia? No." Marika lunged, the hammer in hand to swing for Radagon's jaw, "You are a foul appendage who never was fit to reach for divinity!"

Bone crunched as he was thrown by the blow, Marika looming on a stone and spectral limb with seething contempt as she raised the hammer aloft, and braced her foot over his chest to pin him, "Your consort is a half finished creation, much like you."

Radagon's breath hitched as he spat in defiance, "She is numen. The stars are in her blood as much as they are in yours! An Empyrean can be forged from that firmament."

The briefest flicker of doubt lingered in Marika's gaze, "Then complete your work, or I will retake what is mine, Radagon." The hammer fell, and he woke with a seizing pulse and cold sweat drenching his skin.

Radagon lingered in bed, his stomach dropping at Elia's absence. His dream…his nightmare was a befuddling set of images and words that brought his worst anxieties and rage to the forefront. Was that parasite still with him? His mind was on fire.

The faint scent of coffee broke his internal muddling, drawing his gaze to the nightstand. A mug and plate of bread and hard cheese was left out for him as he sighed, flopping back into the bed that smelt of citrus and flowers. At least a sane person existed in the waking world for him to turn to. His heart still ached, there was a newfound urgency to complete his task, if for Elia's sake should he falter in his viability. The world couldn't suffer another shattering as it was finally rising from its knees to its feet. Radagon rolled from bed, a mess and in desperate need to be pulled from his own thoughts.

Food helped, coffee coaxed him into some state of alertness. The door opened and he sat up straighter, "Elia?"

Black velvet, pearl buttons and earrings, a pale blue train pinned at the hips - when did the woman dress this decadently?

Elia lingered, the silence heavy as she cleared her throat, "...Did you sleep well?"

"Is there a gala or event I wasn't informed of?" Radagon deadpanned, realizing he hadn't seen her in a dress prior to this. It was nice, but strange to see her out of armor or a tunic.

"No…I do have tastes beyond travel wear." she pulled over a stool, sitting across from him with raised brows, "You seem frazzled, is something the matter?"

"...Yes." he relented, "I believe we need to make haste with consecrating your shadow in Millicent, if she's well enough."

"I…I can bring up the matter to her and Sellen at lunch, what made this so urgent?" "...When I dream of Marika, I start to worry." Radagon muttered.

Elia's voice was small and strained, "Oh."

" Yeah." His shoulders slumped, "The golden parasite."

"...Does she endure?"

"I don't know, but strengthening your hold over the ring and our…bond is of key importance."

Elia reached to take Radagon's hand, "...Come walk with me, fresh air and sun would do us both some good, Radagon."

He didn't protest, willing to be led and follow her today.

Stars and Shadow

Autumn was ending, that much was clear with leaves as brilliant as Radagon's hair littered the stone steps of the courtyard. Millicent was in better spirits this morning as well, sparring spectral constructs spawned by Sellen as the sorceress sipped her tea where she was perched atop a chair. Close supervision paired with the weaker constructs made training more of a formality to give routine to the ailing woman's day than to simply be bedridden in perpetuity.

Radagon still felt underdressed next to Elia, glancing sidelong to the woman keeping warm under a wolfen stole. The bygone magician's robes were well tailored and fit him well enough at least, and he kept close to Elia as they walked.

"...Do you often have nightmares, Radagon?" Elia questioned.

"...I linger in memory often, some are my own, others are not. No, I don't dream or suffer nightmares often, at least not before being revived." He inclined his head to her, "...What dreams do you have, Elia?"

"I see stars." She murmured, "I think of Ranni sometimes when I have those dreams. Is that what she wanted for the world, to be embraced by the wider cosmos in some grand apotheosis beyond the constraints of the greater will?"

"...You rejected her accord. Why do you think the stars still call to you?" Radagon had a few suspicions, but cared more for her thoughts on her predicament.

"I don't know. I occasionally dreamt of stars before I met her…but lately feels more charged, the vision shifts here and there, to a forest of golden trees, grand beasts of starlight traversing the cosmic plane as if it were a sea. I don't see the moon any longer." she shook her head, "..They're the idle dreams of a girl who thought of reaching for them once, and wondered what lay beyond our world."

Radagon's breath seized, "...Numen are a diverse cohort of people of the same root origin. Seldom born and long lived, and a race that lends itself well to ascension. Most empyreans have been of numen descent. What you saw is no fiction or idle construct of your imagination, Elia, and lies above the reach and wisdom of the moon Ranni and Rennala pay credence to." "...Then tell me what I saw, please."

"The metaphysical plane of the Greater Will, a point in space where the immaterial world meets our own in fleeting incidents.

The Erdtree is the anchor, had you defeated me…likely it would have become the stage for the Greater Will to confront you."

"...Ranni unleashed something similar with her construct of Rennala that I fought, the battle was set in a reflection pool against the moon, and the library held no signs of damage, implying it was more than a simple illusion."

"She would be expected to have the skill to manipulate time and space, a pocket dimension most likely is where your fight was sequestered to. But that is child's play to what you dream of," Radagon mused, "Its hoping to initiate contact, you hold the ring and would be the immediate god for it to structure an accord with."

"I don't immediately have its patronage?"

"...I acted of my own will to forge the ring unto you, I think we both unshackled ourselves at that moment. The ring holds an inherent sense of power and law, regardless of what god holds it. The Greater will cannot undo its creation, it can only offer a pact with its bearer, which Marika agreed to. You have not…and neither have I. I am anchored to the ring itself by the rune of Order, which you hold in your own right."

"...And if I never accept it?"

"Then the firmament of this land lies on us alone, and we will be upholding that law until a successor arises, by natural succession or conquest."

"Then we are free."

There was a simple charm to that statement, and Radagon couldn't contest it, even under the dour aftermath of Marika manifesting in his mind. He nodded, "We are free, and have a job to finish. Speak to Millicent, and I will make the necessary preparations."

"...I never asked, how do you know this ritual?"

"How else would Ranni have Blaidd? …She would need a loyal shadow whenever Marika finally realised what she was, what she could become, and the boy was loyal and good natured. If Rennala or I weren't in the position to protect her, he would be, and has been without failure." His smile was a gentle one of unabashed pride, her father held that smile once upon a time.

Elia quickly nodded, "...I think you chose well, Blaidd has been an unerring friend to me since we fought Radahn together."

Radagon's smile was bittersweet, and he lightly nudged her towards the impromptu training ground, "Go on, Elia."

Millicent laboured for breath as the helm of a mock-soldier went flying, and Elia applauded in her approach, "Another one bites the dust!"

The swordswoman whirled on her heels to face her companion, her expression brightening. The sword was quickly abandoned, and Elia found herself tugged into an embrace. In an addled life of being afflicted by rot, affectionate gestures were a newfound thing to Millicent, and she employed them often since having fallen into Elia's cohort of friends.

"How are you feeling?" Elia murmured, taking her by the shoulders with a concerned look. There was more colour in that ashen face, and her hair had gotten longer in the last few months, close to brushing her elbows if unbound from its ponytail.

"Better…and Sellen's said we can isolate the rot in my leg and draft a replacement as we did for my arm," The idea weighed heavily, but Millicent was dauntless ever the same.

"Good, Radagon suggested a similar course of action…he was a firsthand witness to how this curse affected Malenia in her youth as well." Elia mused.

Millicent wrung her wrists, his mention stirring up uncertainty in her mind, "...He is…your husband yes?" Her words were soft and meek, not wanting to cause offence, but her curiosity and confusion took precedence.

Elia sucked in a breath through her teeth, opting for the simple answer, "Yes, and he's the most viable help I have for curing you."

Millicent's eyes went wide as she clutched Elia's hand, "I-It can be done?"

"...Yes, it's not a restorative method that can save your limbs, but there is a way to finally sever your connection to the Primordial god of Rot." Elia brushed her thumb over Millicent's knuckles, holding her sister's cheek, "You're going to live, I swear to you."

"How?" Sellen interjected with the sharp snap of her book shutting, "It isn't a restoration spell, and you haven't revisited

Miquella's body or found new research. What method does the Elden Lord have up his sleeve to save her?"

"...It's a twofold solution, I need a shadow and a protector," Elia explained, "Millicent would be the best candidate with her prowess as a swordswoman and our friendship."

Sellen stood in contemplative silence, looking to Millicent for her answer.

The girl squared her shoulders and simply asked, "When?"

"It could happen as soon as today, Radagon is making preparations." Elia replied, her brows raised at her stern continence.

"Then let's begin." Millicent spoke, her voice taking a firm note that rivalled Malenia's cadence. She was a woman ready to slake off the unwanted burden of this god's blessing, to be more than the fairest of flowers, more than a tragedy. She would be the sword of her sister, and a terror to any foe.

The process of a shadow's consecration was a simpler ritual in theory than most. It was a blood pact in the simplest sense, often between siblings or sworn brothers. Maliketh's bond with Marika had been couched in familial loyalty and blood, a strong firmament that remained unyielding through betrayal until death. Ranni's bond with Blaidd had begun in childhood, organic and innocent in its goodwill and trust, forged as a necessary safeguard against the looming future.

Godwyn…Radagon had suspicions of the boy's shadow. He had been an empyrean, a deliberate target of the black knife assassins, and the son Marika loved with glowing adoration until the very end. Of all her inconsistencies and failings, her role as a mother to him was one of her few praiseworthy feats in Radagon's eyes, even if it would be the undoing of the Golden Order.

Sisterhood, such was a strong foundation to base an accord on. Radagon considered himself lucky that Elia had an agreeable constitution and loyal cohort. He didn't imagine she would want a red wolf as a shadow, which had been his loose plan if all else failed.

The preparations were made, the Elden Ring's array drawn in chalk, candles lit, and the knife and goblet ready for the pact to be written. Radagon could only wait for Elia to arrive.

A rare sighting of Elia in formal regalia*

Sisterhood

Millicent would have walked hand in hand with Elia. Yet the gruesome task of her leg still had to be addressed. Numbed and removed by Sellen, Millicent was awake within a few hours, driven to sever this accursed rot.

Elia carried her, the girl's arms wrapped around her shoulder, her thighs hiked around the taller woman's hips as Millicent was carried on Elia's back. Her leg had been cut to the knee, replaced with the salvaged limb from Malenia. The prosthetics had been studied with the grim possibility of influencing future designs for Millicent if it became necessary.

Elia expected Radagon would find it unseemly, but she had little reverence for his daughter at this particular moment. A leg was a leg, and Miquella's work was better suited for the living than a dead valkyrie that refused to negotiate. Millicent groaned at the phantom ache, murmuring, "..Are we close to the spot, sis?"

"Just a few more minutes, yes. Are you feeling alright?" Elia questioned over her shoulder.

"It aches, but no worse than any other day that would have me in bed." Millicent soothed, lifting her head to peek over Elia's shoulder. True to her sister's word, Radagon wasn't far ahead in the spare lecture hall he had set up shop within.

He loomed, an eerie sight to Millicent in his resemblance to Malenia…a woman she'd once idolised or hoped to find any camaraderie in. The Valkyrie had been the spitting image of her father in height, her muscled build and sharp profile… features Millicent became more aware of as her hair grew and she saw more of herself in the many mirrors and gilded surfaces of Raya Lucaria. Save for her petite frame, was she not a spitting image of Radagon, when his hair was the same burnished auburn as hers, and as she grew into the form of a warrior fighting against an inherent sickness of the body?

She didn't want to graft an association to him in her mind. He had already invaded the tapestry of her sister's personal life by less than stellar circumstances, she tired of trying to find an anchor in a bloodline. How could a lineage offer stability if Malenia, mother or her progenitor by inhuman means, had only given her the legacy of rot? She was naïve, but she was no fool. Seeds scattered on the wind and bloomed, she was a child of the Aeonia, and her inheritance had been death until she found her sister in arms.

She slew any familial ties when she expunged the quartet, girls that had flowered alongside her long ago in a memory as distant as any true affection or paternal instinct Gowry had projected. Millicent held tightly to Elia, eyeing Radagon carefully.

It was unsettling that when his eyes fell on her, the firm contours of his face softened and his voice was gentler than the steely tone he so often employed with Elia, "Are you both prepared for this?"

"We are," they spoke in unison.

Radagon instructed the girls to join hands and sit in the center of the circle.

He needed no book or scripture to remember this rite, it was a clear and dearly kept memory of his when Ranni sat in the circle with Blaidd.

It was a clear summer's night. The short lived season of the fireflies and Ranni in her childlike innocence had thought the stars had descended to dance. She and Blaidd had been instructed to cut their palms into the diluted wine, Radagon reciting the verses they would repeat after him. It was an old binding, sealed with both parties drank from the goblet of freely shed blood. The taste had been coppery and foul, hard to stomach. Even Marika spoke of her binding to Maliketh as a burdensome affair she never hoped to repeat due to that key part of the process.

Radagon has his reservations of Elia consuming blood infected by rot, but this was a non negotiable stipulation of this process. Blood for blood, forging a familial bond between the fabric of their souls could be based only in the most vital substance of the body. Millicent's blood burned within Elia's veins, and Elia's blood soothed the ache in Millicent's limbs almost instantly when they drank.

The candles dimmed as the women collapsed, and their shadows were cast into a long silhouette that metastasized and undulated like ink in water. The sisters entered an uncertain slumber, the air churning and smelling of loamy soil and decay.

Radagon lingered at the boundary of the charged array, brows furrowed and the light of the room skewing red, "Begone, you've taken your pound of flesh from my line."

The Aeonia will flower, if not in this one, then in another. As the world ruts, births, and dies, I feast all the same. You cannot kill me in a way that would matter, Elden Lord.

The god of rot held no tangible form, and its pawn was slipping from its grasp in an ever fleeting connection. Radagon stood his ground, his hammer at the ready with a scathing glare, "Then find another meadow, my wife and this child are not yours to stake a claim over."

Silence. The candles reignited, and the lighting of the lecture hall was one again its dimmed gold. Elia and Millicent's shadows were one for a few more moments until finally separating. Elia's breathing was laboured, and Millicent slept more peacefully than in months, the red blotching of her cheeks and throat absent.

Radagon tentatively stepped forward, moving to collect Elia until Sellen cleared her throat, "Leave them to me, Elden Lord."

He scowled, defiantly gathering Elia into his arms, "Allow me some function in relation to Elia's wellbeing."

"Being her consort is a far cry from being accepted as her husband." Sellen ground out, "Do not try to play house under my nose and claim there isn't a stink of hypocrisy in the agency you ripped from her."

"You are a far cry from thankful when I posed a solution for Millicent's affliction."

"Not all solutions are of equal merit. Yours was expedient, not the most extensively researched or thought through!" Sellen refused to back down then as her face was the picture of consternation, "You had no plan, and wrenched us all into your half hearted bid to hold your seat atop the world."

His words died in his throat, "I want to live." He said simply, "I want to live and see this land as something more than a tapestry of

Mine and Marika's failings."

"Then do so without endangering my pupils. This is the last archaic ritual you will thrust them into. Stars help you if Millicent's condition does not improve after this ordeal either," the Sorceress pinched her brow with a long suffering sigh, "How many have been ground under heel to validate your existence, Radagon?"

"Too many. I bid you goodnight Sellen. I hope I see Millicent tomorrow morning." Radagon coldly retorted as he strode away with Elia from the ruined hall.

The Sickbed Companion

Elia slept through the night, dreamless and weary as a red fever burned in the body. Radagon kept close to her that night, short and clipped with Sellen as he gathered the water and towels to try to bring down her fever. He would have none of the sorceress' company, and had more pressing matters of tending to his wife.

He didn't have her affection, but he was still her partner. To be a bedside companion in sickness was a necessary duty he refused to neglect.

He wasn't aimless in his efforts. Radagon was no stranger to nursing a sick child or wife, and even Marika had found him a reliable caretaker after the gruelling birth of the twins. Rennala had been given the most care and devotion however, and Elia suffered no neglect under his watch as the scarlet fever burned and ran its course. When she awoke, it was in her bed with a cool cloth draped over brow, Radagon lay unconscious in a chair near her side.

Her throat was parched, and her bones ached as she sat upright, reaching for the pitcher of water and glass. Apparently Radagon had tried to coax her to stay hydrated in her delirium. Now the Elden Lord lay in the graceless state of slumber, hair askew and close to toppling out of his chair at the angle of his slouched form. Elia shook her head with a wry smile, flopping back into the pillows with little urgency to rise.

Radagon slept in light bursts, when he heard Elia stir, his eyes cracked open and settled on her relaxing form, "Are you alright?"

"S-Sore as fuck, but yes." she turned to him in quiet surprise, "...What happened after the room went dark?"

"A very loathsome god of rot barked at me for severing his connection to Millicent, and you suffered a minor infection from ingesting her blood. The needle purged such a minuscule dose thankfully." Radagon murmured , "Though I never recommend drinking tainted blood again. It's never safe to gamble with the infectious nature of rot. We were lucky this worked as well as it did."

"Is there any word from Sellen?" Radagon soured at the name.

"Yes, Millicent's abrasions and redness are gone. Regaining the atrophied muscle and stamina however will take time." he listed off, "She'll be needing all of our support as she recovers."

"...Even if it delays us finding Miquella?"

"Yes, I'd rather not delve into the remnants of Mohg's court shorthanded. He may be dead, but his patron likely laid deep roots there, you need us with you." Radagon instructed, "...I want to know my son is alive sooner than later, but it does us no favours to gamble with your life for his."

"Then we may be here a few weeks, I know Rennala is departing soon to see Ranni, and we'd best not intrude on her plans."

"Agreed. I'm reluctant to target practice again." Radagon leaned back into his chair, "If Raya Lucaria is our base of operations for the next month, I intend to make the most of our time here."

Elia froze at his focus zeroing in on her, "...What do you mean by that."

"Be out of bed by noon, I want to spar with you." His grin was a smug and devious thing to see.

When Radagon meant spar, he meant a brutal rehash of their duel conducted with training weapons, and few alterations. Training weapons also simply meant him employing a mundane war hammer, and Elia a set of standard sabers to stand in for Excorio and Lacero.

As she leapt to drive her blunted sword for his chest, he sidestepped and lunged to grasp her arm, flinging her overhead. Elia's yell was shrill and graceless as she stumbled to regain her footing, shooting radagon a heated glower, "Hit me with your hammer at this rate! You never threw me around this much before?!"

Dangerous words as he hefted his hammer with inhuman ease as he stalked towards with all the calmness of a prowling lion. "As you wish, grackle. Have your fancy footwork and acrobatics abandoned you today?"

He swept for her in a dizzying rush, and Elia whispered, "Oh shit," before she rolled off to the side, the hammer clipping her side and was due to leave a nasty bruise before the day was out. Radagon didn't advance, giving her the one thing he wouldn't in a true fight - a chance to catch her breath. A hand was extended towards her, and he raked his eyes over her form, "You're due to be back in the training grounds with Millicent, and don't goad an opponent when you can only keep half a step ahead of them." Elia paused, "...You plan on instructing us?"

"As best as I am able. I'm not a traditional swordsman as you two, but I can certainly inform you where your tactics need work.

…I'd like to see how you two remade the waterfowl dance into a studied arte as well."

"Millicent is owed that praise…it came instinctively to her, and Malenia's fight was the sharpest point of reference."

"You are not an imitator." Radagon cut through her deflection, "You are thickheaded and stubborn as a mule, but you do learn things with an intrinsic understanding, Elia."

"That was almost a compliment." Elia muttered.

"And you almost beat me once. Lets find if either of those almosts can become tangible victories."

Elia huffed as she collected her swords and re-entered the ring, "Gear up for round two, smart ass."

Radagon hefted his hammer across his shoulders, "As you wish."

In a tentative form of civilised routine, the occupants of the academy entertained the notion of dining together in an auxiliary library in what was informally considered Elia's wing of the complex. The north wing connected to the observatory and hot houses, and was where Sellen established a laboratory and personal quarters. It was also where Millicents' hospice room had been hurriedly established.

Radagon held no personal chamber, and had the sinking suspicion Rennala would evict him if he dared to try. Thus he continued to room with Elia as the days wore on. The notion of dinner with her and even Millicent had been agreeable, until he found himself sitting across from Sellen that night, the two glaring at each other as if the other was a rodent the cat had dragged in.

Stars help him, why did he buckle to Elia's suggestion?

He kept his eyes on his plate rather than Sellen, and had to raise a brow at the selection tonight. Apparently trade routes of some fashion still existed, and Elia had greased the palm of an amicable merchant to drop off routine supplies of food for at least the span of a few months. The kitchen larder was stocked with dry goods and cured meats, and the hot houses were growing a myriad of herbs and vegetables that Sellen oversaw by way of routine enchantments to keep the beds watered and tilled. The merchant himself had been plied with access to the lower storehouses as safe storage for unsold treasures other tarnished would pay handsomely for.

It had been a wise move, bartering the cleared space of the fortified Academy. Rennala wouldn't have been the sort to stick her hands into finance, that was the meticulous work of stewards and domestics. Radagon pondered if Elia's knack for slipping into informal leadership was a gift or learned skill from her travels. She certainly wasn't being fleeced if her arrangement earned her fresh cod, crab, and mussels. Which led Radagon to understand how she had the meal arranged for tonight.

Seafood, copious amounts of seafood.

Now Radagon began to understand where numen hardly implied a uniform set of aesthetics or even tastes. Elia had already been a stark contrast from Marika with her dark complexion, brown and waving hair and mismatched eyes versus the sleek gold hair and porcelain skin Marika possessed in life. Even Radagon differed from his former counterpart in what was becoming a warm complexion of tanned skin and his auburn hair had more life to it since leaving Leyndell. It also entailed Elia craving crab and fish with greater appreciation than Marika ever had for the creatures.

He winced as she cracked a leg as it was nothing, baring sharp canines with her grin. Crab sooner resembled a chitinous insect to him, to her it was a delicacy. For as odd as it was, it was an easier thing to focus on than Sellen's cool judgement. He may as well keep himself distracted , "...What sort of crab is that?"

"Dungeness," Elia forked over a leg, "Try it."

He paused, tentatively taking the offered morsel with little sense of regard for table etiquette at this point. It hadn't been done at Marika's table in the few instances Radagon had been harassed into a public meal with her. Oh no, royal dinners in Leyndell were as regimented as battle formations. He had always sat at Marika's left, Godwyn to her right as the beloved golden child he had been since leaving the womb. Few words were exchanged with his wife, the working relationship and candid understanding they had once possessed in war now gone. Marika certainly never shared her food with him, or waited with baited breath to see if he enjoyed his meal. The leg snapped easily in his hands, and he took a bite of the strange flesh.

It was softer than expected, with a subtle sweetness than any pungent flavours of brine or oversalting. He glanced sidelong to

Elia, swallowing hard, "It's good."

Her eyes shined and she nudged the basket of crab to him to take his pick of. Radagon indulged her excitement, figuring if he liked one leg well enough, a few more claws wouldn't hurt. Radagon wasn't particularly chatty, but indulging Elia's curiosity was an easy task as she began the arduous task of rooting out his dietary preferences.

Yet he did feel compelled to ask, "...Did your village have a seafaring tilt to them?"

"We lived on the river, father spoke of the ocean though."

Ah, prior to the migration across the fog. Every foreign origin seemed to vary, Marika had been from a land once rich in the bounty of its fields. Her host had fled a bygone invader Radagon held few memories of. What force had driven Elia's people to Liurnia with poisoned swords and armour sets made of chitin stronger than most steel or bronze alloys?

He didn't expect she would know herself, having just been a girl when she was brought here.

"...Seafood tastes like home to you, doesn't it?"

She paused, so close to breaking another claw in her hands, "It does."

Dinner had concluded with no casualties thankfully. Sellen's crusade had fallen apart when he kept speaking with Elia alone, leaving the sorceress to make small talk with Millicent.

The girl had a mild sweet tooth apparently, she took to meat pies, fruits, and sweetcakes more than the fish or vegetables. Lemon cake in particular had disappeared on Millicent and Elia's plates. Radagon had managed to swipe a few squares for himself as a late evening dessert, opting to stay in the library and read whilst Elia got a headstart to draw a bath. When he found a comfortable chaise, a voice interrupted him.

Mercifully, it was Sellen who occupied the library.

Millicent approached, wringing her steel and flesh hands. It still made Radagon pause to realise it wasn't Malenia when her hair was down, and her prosthetic was now inherited from the Valkyrie herself.

"...I wanted to speak to you, sir." Millicent murmured, honey colored eyes meeting their mirror in Radagon.

"It's Radagon." He dryly corrected her, "What is it, Millicent?"

"...Are you courting Elia?" She fidgeted with the long sleeve of her gown, a deep mauve garment with a modest cut and knee length skirt that made it easier for her to walk than the long skirts her sister wore. Radagon swore under his breath at her forwardness.

"...Whomever your sister has romantic inclinations for, it isn't me."

"Sellen keeps saying you're her husband…by illicit means, is that true?"

Stars help him, he'd tear out that woman's tongue at this rate. Radagon looked at Millicent with a soft sigh, "Unfortunately, yes. Elia and I became associated with one another through desperation and conflict. It's her patience and willingness to compromise with me that makes our situation modestly functional."

"You say that…but she behaves in a confusing way around you. It's with warmth, she laughs at your awkwardness and swears at you like the devil. You've been roped into her life just as we all were in some fashion. What are you to her?" "A reliable friend." Radagon murmured, "I hope she considers me as such."

"...If you do anything untoward-"

"I'll suffer a painful death." he mused, "I've had that threat from two women already. I'll take it with the most weight from you however."

"Why?" Millicent blinked in surprise.

"Because she is your sister, and more precious to you than anything in this life." Radagon rose from his chair, "And you have the means now to be as enduring as she is. Her red shadow."

The stern determination in Millicent's gaze was hard to swallow. Miquella once was as safe as Elia was, when those gold eyes stared down their enemy like a lioness ready to devour her prey.

"My interests are the same as yours, I want Elia to live a long and healthy life." Radagon spoke softly, his voice holding none of the contempt as he did for Sellen. Those notes made Millicent uncertain in her ire, and she snagged Radagon's sleeve in her

grip.

"...Don't resent her for Malenia….I was insistent on meeting her." she choked out, her throat feeling tight.

"Child, I cannot blame you for the addled mind and unfortunate end of my daughter. I never did." Millicent's shoulders sank in relief.

Amends

Rennala had packed lightly when she departed from Raya Lucaria. There was little desire to wallow or linger in her former husband's company, and her heart was still heavy despite her peace with the Tarni- with Elia. That girl had a better knack for peacemaking than war, and even a hound like Radagon could be coaxed away from his aggressive mantras. Rennala was done grieving for him, and hoped to return to her home and daughter in peace.

She abandoned the regalia of a headmistress and queen. Dark hair had been gathered into a loose plait, and she wore a dark blue tunic and simple breeches, her scepter in hand and her royal cowl drawn up over her head against the chill wind. The spires of the mage towers were key landmarks in Rennala's trek by foot, and she hesitated to enter when she stood at the base of Ranni's Rise.

Oh, what could she say to explain herself, or to contextualize the strange affairs pertaining to the Academy's new occupants. Her throat tightened, and she pushed open the doors, having come too far to let her anxieties stop her now. The Carian Queen ascended the steps, her hands tightly bunched in her cloak as she awaited with baited breath to see her daughter.

The tower had been quiet as a grave, but Elia had not deceived her. There sat a doll with the same aloof grace as her inquisitive child, marble blue eyes peering at her mother from her chair, two extra hands tensed and gripping the armrests with an unnatural stillness.

"Mother?"

"...Little Ranni," Rennala spoke with a clarity that had been forgotten by the world, and Ranni rushed from her chair, unable to cry in a body such as this. Two sets of arms braced Rennala tightly into a hug, and her child buried her face in her mother's shoulder, "Why…why have thou come here? Has something happened to the Academy?"

"...I am tired of being a ghost amongst the living. That place is not my home, nor where I am needed." Rennala cradled her daughter's face with a heavy sigh.

"Am I still a living being, in thine eyes, in a flesh that is not mine nor even flesh?"

"Without question, you are my daughter regardless of what form or flesh you take," Rennala whispered, "...Where is your brother,

Blaidd?"

Ranni tensed, her gaze souring, "...Sickened, fighting the throes of a destiny foisted upon him and regaining his sanity inch by inch, dragged into this taste by a Tarnished's half finished efforts."

"What role did Elia play in this?" Rennala questioned, her stomach dropping at the prospect of Blaidd's suffering.

Ranni went quiet, before hissing "...She accosted thee, if she hath laid harm to thine person, she will suffer-"

"Stop." Rennala raised a hand, "I was tended to in the academy, she played a role in that effort. Tell me, how did thou lose your accord with her?"

"...The grace of the moon would guide this land, if she had become my consort. She aided me, freed Radahn's hold of the stars, enabled me to slay my own two fingers…to just abandon our task. She swore to me her service and loyalty." Ranni murmured, "The flame of ambition drew her to new heights beyond my side."

Better to tell this cruel truth now than later, "Her will is her own, and someone else forced her into the role of consort."

Ranni's expression bled into one of worry for a former friend, "W-Who? What state is she in?"

"Alive, adapting, and well… Your father is her consort and Elden Lord." Rennala confessed, "Let her go, I won't have thou lose thyself in bitterness and regret when I have only just now returned to thee? Let me help thee, please."

Ranni dipped her head, weary and aimless in the face of defeat, taking some comfort in the pleasant surprise of her mother's lucidity, "...Will thoust stay with me, Mother?"

"Until the stars grow old and the sun grows cold." Renalla kissed her brow, "Yes, as long as you have need of me, I will be with you."

In Raya Lucaria, a tentative peace managed to endure for Elia's cohort. Training with Radagon became a grueling cornerstone of her routine in the past week. Always before noon, she would find herself dodging the crushing hits of a hammer, her stomach dropping at the near serpentine fluidity of Radagon's capacity to lash and rush her. Disarming him was a rare but loathsome occurrence, affording him the speed to move unencumbered by the hammer to grab her.

She regretted the fleeting moment of glee she felt for sending his hammer flying with a well placed hit to the wrist. He was as fast as his wolves, his hand closed around the front of her tunic to lift her high off her feet, her sword braced against her throat in his grip.

"Dead." Radagon deadpanned as he held her at eye level.

Elia kicked out at his chest with an indignant look, jabbing him sharply as he wheezed and his hold slackened. Dropping to her feet, she rushed him with his stance unsteady, and drove her shoulder into his abdomen. The man yelled as he was toppled, and blinked in a daze as Elia scrambled for the hammer, bracing its handle over his throat with a warning look as she drove her knee into his chest.

"Dead." She grinned, and Radagon stared with a flushed face as he labored for breath.

"You foul, underhanded gremlin. Finally!" He sat upright and Elia slipped off of him.

"So you enjoy me fighting like it's a bar fight." She laughed, offering him a hand up which he readily took. Dusting himself off, Radagon was a bit of a mess from their sparring, his braid undone and sweat beading down his brow. Elia fared little better, dirt stained her tunic and she was in sore need of a wash.

"If it means you win for once, yes. Decorum has little importance over your life and victory."

Radagon had begun to sense what was taking root at Raya Lucaria when yet another bird or animal trotted the halls with a letter in tow. He bothered to investigate when he found a fox pawing at Elia's door, lifting the small animal with a frown.

" Why is this school an academy for animal couriers?" he muttered. Withdrawing the sealed scroll for the fox's mouth, to which it yipped in protest, he frowned at its recipient.

Sellen, was to whom it was addressed to. Radagon swore under his breath, placing the fox down and returning its parcel, "You'll find the sour woman down the hall." The animal huffed and trotted off in a hurry, belying an intelligence likely placing it as a familiar. As Radagon weighed his options, he shook his head and stalked back into the room, peering at Elia who had taken to lazing in bed that evening.

"...Why is Sellen receiving this much correspondence?" He questioned.

"She's scouting for professors to return," Elia peered up from her book, "She's wanted to restore this institution for a long time, and a handful of tarnished would make for fitting candidates if she can assemble a small faculty."

"...Do you think it'll be successful?" Radagon murmured in quiet surprise as he took a seat across from her.

"Yes, I do. Boggart already established a residence in the Academy's Gate Town. A few of the outbuildings are habitable now, but any permanent community beyond passing travelers is non-existent. It's just a stable trading outpost I threw his way for a stable influx of food." She mused, "If we do start to see more permanent residents, we may need better wards and to erect fortifications."

"I designed most of Raya Lucaria's modern defenses for Rennala, I could be put to use again in devising a new defensive plan." Radagon idly suggested, "Remember, you have more than Sellen to help structure this plan." "I didn't think you would be invested." Elia murmured softly.

"I still love this institution, and I am invested because it pertains to your attention and time." He raised a brow, "You've invested yourself in my reconciliation with Ranni and Miquella for the same motives, have you not?"

Radagon was blunt, he was tactless, he was also fair. Elia had come to appreciate that blunted simplicity when the man was pulled from his contemplations and anxieties. It offered clarity and there was little ambiguity in where they stood. Elia patted the bed beside her.

"Its late, join me?" She asked, to which Radagon stared as if she were joking. She didn't just ask him to come to bed, it was assumed he would sleep on his half and not disturb her. Yet invitations were never given, he certainly never beckoned her to curl up in the sheets with him.

Swallowing hard, he nodded, leaving his chair and moving to settle under the blankets as he glanced sidelong to her, "...You don't have to be this gracious in my accommodations."

"No friend of mine is sleeping on the floor or couch." she huffed in response, her voice soft and distant as sleep clawed at her.

Radagon let the silence overtake the room, and was confident she was asleep when he spoke, "No friend of mine will suffer neglect, Elia. Goodnight, and dream of simpler things than gods." When he slept, it was a peaceful darkness and the lingering scent of citrus. Marika was silent this evening.

Weeping Wounds and Unspoken Pains

It felt as if the day to depart came sooner than Radagon was ready for it.

Millicent had been undaunted in her recovery period, sparring and walking the grounds daily to grow accustomed to her new leg.

Radagon hadn't sparred directly with her yet beyond basic drills, never willing to take the risk of hurting her.

For lack of a better term, Elia was a durable sparring partner and he was far more comfortable pushing her than a once sickly girl. After their confrontation, Millicent had lost her defensive edge, but conversation was rarely made between Elden lord and Elia's Shadow.

Life was regimented in that way. He certainly never crossed paths with Sellen more than needed. But to travel as a band of three would be strange. As well, Rennala was still out and about in her travels. Radagon was confident it would be a while yet before he saw her again.

Miquella's condition would define how long this journey would take, or where they would conclude it. Radagon had contemplated their options late into the night with Elia, her input was worrying when she illuminated what state Miquella was in.

"...I would have moved him-" Elia murmured, "Millicent was wounded and his form was withered and grown..."

"I don't blame you for that. Please tell me what you saw of him?"

"Withered and emaciated within a broken cocoon. Mohg was in his bloodstream." Elia murmured.

Radagon swore, " ...Moving him out of that place is a priority. I can only think of using his needle to root out any lingering traces of the formless mother."

"...He was rebirthing himself in the Haligtree, hoping to ascend from his curse into adulthood, yes?"

"Thats correct, he was a child in perpetuity."

"...I have the rune of the unborn, Rennala shaped countless children that while imperfect were still of deliberate creation and design." Elia murmured, "Can I not reshape his form into something uncorrupted?"

"You're thinking as a goddess." Radagon stated, staring her down, "Think it through, what would you do if you channeled that rune."

"...I would want you to be present, and he needs to be removed from that cocoon." She murmured, "I would restore him back to his original body, and then we return him to the Haligtree to resume his hibernation as he intended."

Radagon raised his brows, "...You think his plan would have worked?"

"He's one of the few demigods who didn't go insane, wage war, or plot a Faustian deal with a new god. I will give him the courtesy of saying his ideas hold water and he came the closest to curing Malenia." Elia pinched the bridge of her nose, "What was his motivation if not that of a brother simply wanting his sister to live? It's a humane goal, and a stubborn will to survive that I think he inherited from you."

Radagon wrung his wrists, "If we do this, we need to defend him. Being unguarded and incubated is what allowed someone as vile as mohg to…to defile my son." his voice strained then, hovering over that boundary between grief and wrath.

Elia nodded, "He's the demigod I've wanted to meet for a long while…and I regret not finding him before Malenia…I think both-"

"Stop." Radagon raised a hand to interrupt her, "We cannot mince intangible externalities of decisions we will never see pan out. You secured Ranni's existence to remain stable, and you removed Mohg from the equation. That is more than you ever owed my children."

"...I want to be able to help him." Elia sighed.

"We will." Radagon reached to hold her shoulder, "Go to sleep, we've made a viable plan, and all we can do now is be well rested to travel tomorrow."

Radagon paused as Elia ducked her face into his shoulder, going quiet until he was certain she wasn't going to move anytime soon. He sighed, tentatively reclining into bed with her tucked against his side. There would be a long march ahead of them tomorrow.

They were on the road again. Millicent was given Torrent, and Elia and Radagon were walking on foot alongside the steed. Their march would take them west, to the same battlefield that stained Radagon to this very day. He was particularly tense to be nearing the Giant's homeland, his gaze drawn towards Millicent now and again as she kept her eyes forward and bundled thickly under a heavy pelt.

This region had been grueling even for Marika, and to be trekking here near the start of winter was equally dangerous. Torrent was a beast that thankfully needed little rest or sustenance, the steed trotting with a damning lightness to his spectral hooves.

The irony of a cursed man and his vaguely descended progeny bearing the signs of that transgression was not lost on him, and he pondered if Millicent knew the weight of her hair. He shook his head, some burdens were best left to wither on the vine, his shame wasn't hers, and Elia at least never made a comment of his appearance. He remembered how the instant his hair no longer resembled Marika's flaxen locks, the distance and separation became a tangible line in the sand. For whatever reason, that was the beginning of their divergence in his mind, when he stopped being her male counterpart in equal fashion and became her scapegoat.

Good riddance , he thought, and perhaps there was a bit of pride to take in the color red for that sole fact.

It would be strange to see Miquella again, the boy had been Marika's spitting image, even more so than Godwyn who held Godfrey's strong frame and booming voice. Miquella was a slow and patient speaker, a smart lad even before his mind began to outpace his body. Radagon sighed, and hoped before the day was out, he would hold his son again. Begrudgingly, the twins were the one consolation of leaving Rennala that he would credit Marika for imparting upon him, even if their function was to be a noose and hold him down in Leyndell.

Elia tugged on his sleeve, "We're close to the portal," she murmured.

It hadn't been a coincidence that the blooms they stepped over were red. As Millicent dismounted Torrent, she grimaced at the scent of iron, "..that blood is fresh."

Radagon eyed the stout portal's frame, grimacing at the sight, "This is the entrance then…and it's been freshly tended to."

"Yes," Elia sighed, "I didn't consort with Mohg's associates beyond killing them, and I suppose they still exist to inhabit the husk of their citadel."

"Cults have a hell of a shelf life, Elia." Radagon reminded, "Millicent, are you fit to fight?"

The girl nodded, "I wouldn't have come if I wasn't. Lets go."

The palace was a ruin, and it was no silent tomb.

Elia swore and kept her helm on as she slew one foul wretch after the other. The white masks were in abundance and rotten strays were foul accomplices that sloppily tried to herd the trio into a corner. Radagon's hammer decimated frail forms with ease as he played the role of primary defense, and Millicent proved that she retained her dexterity and speed with a metal leg. Yet this hardly boded well with Elia.

Too many were here, forming patrols and defenses with an organization that almost paralleled Mohg's direction. Who was their new figurehead to keep this cult alive, and better yet, what were they doing with Miquella? She swore to herself, there had been a window of opportunity to stamp out these bloodsoaked zealots, and now they festered like a growing infection. A hand wrenched her back before she could be shanked in the side by a particularly agile bastard, and Millicent whirled on the man to jab her blade through the mask and out the back of his skull with a hiss.

Elia froze. That man hadn't been in her line of sight, and Millicent had been at the other end of the frenzied battle. The red shadow didn't miss a beat as she pushed Elia towards Radagon for cover in her stupor. So this was the degree of innate instinct that Maliketh had possessed as Marika's foremost defender.

Radagon reached out to tug Elia by the arm, swinging his hammer wide to throw off one of the last fighters still standing, sending her a lingering look, *"Don't get distracted, you weren't stabbed."* his words were firm as he shook her shoulder lightly, and pulled her to the present.

"...I've never seen her with that sort of reaction time."

"Its a new level of attunement between allies. It'll become second nature to you eventually." Radagon murmured, and called over,

"Millicent - I think that's all of them!"

The girl's posture relaxed, and she looked over to Elia with a proud smile, bringing some relief to her sister who gave her a nod in acknowledgement, "They're numerous, but rather sloppy."

"Frazzled, is my sense." Elia murmured, "Its fitting, they did lose Mohg only a short while ago."

"Even numbers over skill isn't a reassuring thing. They still hold their citadel." Radagon corrected, "Who was likely to survive and helm this cult?"

"...Possibly Varre. He was a particularly charming emissary I didn't seek out again after our initial meeting. Him or another Sanguine noble should be awaiting us." Elia held her chin in thought.

"Then we press on and kill them." Radagon tersely grunted, hefting his weapon and stalking onwards. He wanted to leave this hellhole soon.

The silhouette of Miquella's bloodied cocoon sickened Radagon. Fresh maidens lay dead on the dais, and the anointed leader of this host was a nameless zealot Radagon had little interest in. Elia had scoffed at the pilfered trident in the hands of a towering

noblewoman.

"Drop it." Elia stalked towards the lone woman with a sneer, her swords drawn, "I doubt it even beckons to you as it did Mohg."

Her attendants were dead, the citadel ready to be taken as its usurper stood cornered and alone. The noble's hands tightened over the weapon, and she shook her head, "This dynasty was writ in the stars to come to fruition, if not by my lord, then of his disciples-"

"Your dynasty was built on the assault of another." Elia jabbed Lacero into the teeth of the trident to wrench it down and lunged with Excorio to lance the woman through the abdomen, "Your goddess is unwelcome here, and I will expunge this cult down to the last man, woman, and wretched thrall you've inducted."

The worshipers of blood were enduring like a cancer in the body, and as her wound wept, the noble grinned an unnatural smile, earning a newfound strength as she pushed up and drove the trident's prongs into Elia's chestplate. Ichor dripped from Elia's lips as she choked, and lashed out to kick the woman off of her with a wheezing inhale. She staggered back, her eyes going wide at the disarming sight of gold ichor being tainted by the touch of the noble. It bubbled and curdled on the tips of the trident, and it began to pulse with a newfound life.

The blood of a god was a potent thing, and the noble grinned as she traced her white hand over the speared tip of her weapon,

"Whatever you are, thank you for such a bountiful offering."

Radagon and Millicent had rushed forward when the weapon breached Elia's chestplate, Millicent collecting her sister as Radagon readied the hammer to strike.

Blood tells a story. Miquella's blood painted the desperation of a man trapped in his eternally stagnant flesh as his sister felt her body dying around her. Elia's blood was equally vivid.

"Motherless numen, oh how godhood suits you." The noble smiled as she kissed the last droplets of gold from her fingertips,

"You would be a prize for any Elden Lord, any god who could mold you."

Millicent tightened her hold on Elia, her sword poised defensively as ribs and flush knitted themselves together like a mended garment. Elia drew a wet and heaving breath, and Radagon had heard enough.

"Insanity is an unsteady firmament for a new order, wretch," the hammer was a brutal but effective weapon, when it clashed with the trident, it sparked gold, and broke two of the prongs as the noble's bravado faded. The woman skittered back like a flailing spider, pale and wide eyed as she backed away from the Elden Lord.

"Who are you to tell me of order? When the foundation of your family was so unsteady that your nest of children could be plucked or called to civil war in months as the world shattered?" she hissed, "Do not scorn us for clawing for land in the ocean of blood your children wrought, Elden Lord. Have you not done the same, with this pretty new consort?"

Radagon lunged with a yell, the noble's pontification dying in her throat as her skull was crushed in like a broken marble bust. He glared at the withering form, and cast a weary look to Elia and Milicent, "...is she alright?"

Elia gave a tentative thumbs up, still straining to talk as she staggered over to Radagon, "...T-That was clumsy of me."

"It was," he sighed, handing over a draught of healing from his satchel. Elia popped off the cork with her teeth and downed the vial's contents in a sharp sip. Radagon extended a hand to her to ascend the steps which she readily took, sending him a thankful look.

"...Now the real work begins." Elia murmured.

Millicent watched the cocoon with a contemplative look. Miquella's withered hand still reached for the stars, and she couldn't help but liken the sight to a butterfly that never escaped its chrysalis. Fruit that withered on the vine.

A lily that never bloomed.

To channel a particular rune of the Elden Ring was not unlike a concentrated movement of the limb or finger. But even of the great runes, to precisely channel one took deliberate focus as Radagon kept a hand on Elia's shoulder, ready to guide her if needed. She was no mother, and the Sanguine Noble had read into a large void in her life. She hadn't had a mother, it had only been her fathers and uncle. Elia wasn't quite sure what it was to foster a new life into the world, but she reminded herself, it was only the reforging of flesh. Akin to a blacksmith melting down a ruined sword to reforge it.

The rune gleamed over her chest, the mental path formed, and the energy ready to be shaped. She stood just before Miquella's cocoon, clasping Radagon's hand as she reached for Miquella's withered arm. It held a weakened pulse despite being cold as death.

A moment passed, the golden grace of the Elden Ring glinting off of the needle that had been jabbed into his wrist. The fingers of the limb twitched, and then tightened in Elia's grip like it was a lifeline.

That boy was alive, and he craved help as the lungs craved air. The grace of unalloyed gold blinded the mausoleum, and the cocoon burned away as Elia and Radagon were thrown back by the spooling burst of energy.

The trio lay scattered over the dais, Millicent was unconscious and Radagon hadn't yet stirred where he laid collapsed against a column.

When Elia came to, her vision dazed and blurred as the light faded, she felt hands on her face. Groaning, she propped herself upright to see a boy holding her face with a scrutinizing look. Garbed in aged linen, the blonde haired child had Radagon's nose and his golden eyes, he frowned and muttered, "...I thought Malenia would be the one to save me." Ah. He had his father's tact.

Unalloyed

Miquella furrowed his brows at Elia, the rune fading over her breastplate as the grace dimmed from her pupils, "Who are you?"

"...A friend of your father. Who I think would like to see you himself." Elia murmured, nodding to Radagon's collapsed form.

Miquella's countenance immediately softened, but he was reluctant to step forward, "...Mohg, is he dead?"

"He is, I slew him myself." Elia murmured, "You're safe."

He all but bolted to Radagon's side then, shaking the dazed man's shoulder. A stilted groan left Radagon as he sat upright, blinking slowly as he took in the sight of Miquella. The same flaxen hair, small frame, and his curved nose, "...She did it."

Radagon swept an arm around Miquella's shoulders, holding the boy tightly as he tucked his face into his father's shoulder.

Miquella murmured softly, "...Where had you gone, after the ring was broken?"

"Imprisoned by a cage of the Greater Will's design," he sighed, opting for the simplistic answer versus the complicated truth, "...Were you coherent inside that cocoon?"

Miquella shook his head, "...Mohg's ramblings and the visions of his patron were muddled…and his blood stung as I could feel my flesh and bones changing against my will. I could not speak, move, or awaken. I was just..trapped."

Radagon swore under his breath, "Please, forgive me for not having protected you when you needed us."

"W-Where is Malenia. She swore to bolster the Haligtree's defence." Miquella whispered, his gaze flicking to Millicent's mop of hair and her arm. His eyes widened as his face went pale, "What did you do?!"

Radagon tightened his hold over Miquella before the boy could do something brash or stupid, Elia heaved a sigh and spoke over the tense silence as the golden child fumed.

"I bested Malenia in combat. Her botched conquest of Caelid was a failure that left her and Radahn ruined for the rest of their natural lives. The general was mad until he was slain in battle, and Malenia as far as I understand was returned to the Haligtree once the Aeonia bloomed. I fought her whilst looking for you, to save my friend's life." Elia crossed her arms and nodded to

Radagon, "Let him go, if he wants to rage against anyone, he can do so at me."

A split breastplate and congealing ichor made her into a less than stellar sight as she levelled a firm look at Miquella, "I don't relish having to have fought your sister, but I hadn't come this close to mending the ring only for her to seize glory in desperation and stubborness." Reluctantly, Radagon loosened his hold, and the boy took a few uncertain steps closer with trembling fists.

"...Malenia was no fool. If there was a possibility to broker an accord, why would she have fought you?" Miquella's words were clipped and terse.

"Why did she fight Radahn?" Elia countered, "A man who held Caelid in relative peace and made no aggressive movements against her host. She left the Haligtree assuming your host would be enough because conquest appealed to her. Your sister loved you, but she was as much a warmonger as any other party involved in the shattering." Elia knelt to be at eye level with Miquella, "You know your sister, for her faults and strengths better than us all. Was the woman ever the diplomatic sort or one to seek out compromise?"

Miquella's throat tightened, a bitter laugh leaving him, "To think the likes of you would save me."

"I don't ask for your gratitude." Elia grimaced, "I only expect you to not make a target of my friend."

"Your friend wears her prosthetic." Miquella ground out, "Remove it."

"She lost her limb to rot." Elia shook her head, "I won't cripple her when that leg was the one resource we had to help her fight.

It'll be removed when I can have a replacement fashioned."

As they argued, Millicent kept silent and exchanged a nervous look to a weary Radagon who dragged his hands down his face,

"...should I intervene?"

"No. Miquella is about as defiant as I am. Let Elia handle it, she's willing to be the wall for him to scream at and wear himself out…which might be the only way to get him to process this without being hostile to us all." Radagon muttered, hardly satisfied with that course of action. Miquella wasn't one to employ violence often in his state, but the boy finally seemed to snap at Elia's cold rebuttal.

"Vulture." Miquella's voice stung as harshly as his hand to Elia's cheek.

Radagon was on his feet in an instant, Millicent tensed and uncertain of who to grab or what was permissible with Miquella's rage and delicate constitution.

Elia's eyes flashed dangerously as she glared at the blond child, rising to her feet, "I am. I wanted my sister to live, and an obstacle was going to be dealt with to whatever extent necessary. Malenia made her choices and died with them. I apologise for how it ended, I do not apologise for wanting to live."

"What are you, for you to be tolerated by my father despite killing my siblings?" Miquella questioned her.

"His consort." Elia deadpanned, her pretence and patience gone as shock replaced Miquella's frothing rage, "He can share the details with you if you care to know, it's a convoluted trifle I have no intention of reliving." She gathered her swords and stalked down the steps, not meeting Radagon's eyes during her prompt departure.

Millicent trailed after her, leaving the father and son alone atop the dais.

Radagon winced at the sound of the slap, and all too quickly, the situation had spiralled into a chilling mess. He was uncomfortably still as he stared down Miquella, and stepped in his path before he could hound Elia for an explanatio n, "Leave her be - if you have to shout at someone, shout at the person who is to blame."

Miquella shook his head, "How is she not at fault?"

"You were seized because of how broken this world became, by countless interested parties intent on claiming divinity… Marika shattered the Elden Ring, Miquella, and I failed to repair the damage of my other half." Radagon dipped his head, "Have a seat, there are many things I should have told you, things I thought I would have so much more time to tell your siblings."

The boy felt small, the world turning on its head as he slowly took a seat on an outcropping of rock, "...I'm listening. Tell me what happened during the shattering, father." He wrung his hands, tensed and setting his jaw as Radagon collected his thoughts.

"The whole truth predates your birth, and encompasses our present." Radagon softly corrected him. "It begins with your mother,

Marika."

Radagon was one of the few in the world who could remember his birth. He had been formed of Marika's flesh and a rune of the ring. The Great Rune of Order held together the construct Marika had made. He was a deliberately grafted set of parts, a lung plucked from her chest, her lower ribs severed, and an eye given over. These were wounds she easily healed from, and her donated flesh were akin to the discarded innards of an animal if not given the brilliance of the Elden ring's grace.

There was likely more to this process, but Radagon remembered the pain of these parts being harvested, and knew there had been a material price to pay in giving Marika a second half to puppet. Such had been her intent, and for a time Radagon had been docile in his unnatural youth. Caria was his rebellion, where distance and passion helped forge his now characteristically defiant nature.

"She grafted me from herself into another life to direct and follow her command." Radagon murmured, "When I was summoned back from Caria, it wasn't a request or negotiable. If pressed, she would command me as one would an extra limb. My flesh was hers."

Miquella was quiet, his expression a sobering one as he murmured, "...Was. What became of Marika."

Not mother. It didn't surprise Radagon, Marika grew apart from the twins almost as quickly as she divested herself from Mohg and Morgott's shame. He cleared his throat and weighed his words carefully, "...She shattered the ring in a glorious suicide attempt. Godwyn's death broke her, her golden successor. I…I wanted to live, but when her flesh failed, as did mine, and we were confined to one body once more, and the Greater Will doled out its punishment. I was crucified until the Erdtree burned, and a tarnished finally completed their campaign."

"The tarnished you deigned to marry." Miquella glumly pointed out.

"Marika would ruin us all." Radagon glared, "I made use of the person at my disposal, and she's proved to be more helpful than anticipated. I wouldn't have found you as fast as I did if she hadn't killed Mohg."

Miquella groaned into his hands, "why did you not go back to Rennala at least? She was smart and respected."

"I'm still certain she'll kill me if I step a toe out of line. No, my ex wife isn't an option or I would have happily remarried damage is done with my legacy in Caria, I only want to know I've done what I could for you and Ranni."

Miquella's expression tensed. The lunar princess was likely Radagon's favoured child of them all, and of all his siblings to survive, it felt insulting that she lived while Malenia did not.

"...Ranni still lived? She went missing on the same night as Godwyn," Miquella pressed, "How is she alive?"

"She absconded her flesh into that of a puppet …I don't know her story yet, we have yet to meet since I awakened."

Miquella froze, his eyes going wide, "You came for me first?"

"You're my last living son, and I am your last surviving parent. It was never a question of who needed me with the most urgency ...and I needed to know you were alive in spite of what you suffered."

"...Thank you." Miquella spoke after a pregnant pause, looking up to his father with an uncertain look, "I'm glad you found me, instead of a stranger."

Radagon managed a faint smile, reaching to take his son's hand, "...I have a question for you then." "Yes?"

"Do you plan to return to the Haligtree?"

Miquella shook his head quickly, "N-No…it was defiled once, I won't be plucked from it again." "Then that leaves you to travel with us." Radagon murmured.

"...with them?" the boy grimaced, "Why?"

"Yes, because I do have a partnership with Elia, and I honour my alliances." Radagon instructed, "You don't have to be fond of her, but don't raise a hand to her again, she never tried to make an enemy of us beyond unfortunate circumstances and the brutal nature of conquest."

Miquella nodded, "Fine. Where will we go?"

"We will likely return to Leyndell. It was a citadel once, and it still means a great deal to the land… I'll address Millicent's choice of prosthetics and there you can rest safely for a while."

"We aren't staying?" Miquella didn't seem too bothered by that fact, but never had his father been so mobile outside of his war campaigns.

"No, sooner or later we will return to Raya Lucaria."

Miquella furrowed his brow at the prospect, "...I have always wanted to see their library." "Don't misfile your books and you can." Radagon warned.

Tentatively, the pair departed the citadel in search of Millicent and Elia. Miquella's gaze was sombre, not apologetic, but heavy thoughts lingered in his mind still. Slapping the woman hadn't brought him any zeal or vindication, his palm only stung, and he understood how cold her pragmatism could feel. He would heed his father's words.

The roots of the Erdtree made for a secure tomb, stalks of deathroot swaying as the chill breeze swept through the great tree's roots. Godwyn rested there, the shell of his carcass the undying horror it had always been. Nested against his side, slept Fia, her dreams a gift and a prayer to the flesh that she slept with. Her rune taken yet unused, a waste of such effort and devotion. Yet the labour of a deathbed companion was a potent thing, and of all those she embraced, none had been so lovingly held as her Tarnished or Godwyn.

An arm closed around Fia's waist, sickly and frail from the mass of mutated flesh. She continued to dream of starless nights and wintry fog. In that escape, she found a companion. In the dreaming world, Fia's eyes fluttered open against the sensation of a palm holding her cheek, peering at the graceless eyes of death.

The face of her companion was a lovely thing, pale hair that had once rivalled gold in its lustre, skin greyed in its postmortem state. His eyes blackened and consumed as they studied her intently. Fia's dreams hadn't been so tangible yet, and she shied back with a hitch in her breath.

"…Fia?" the stranger spoke in gentle tones, kneeling in the fields of ashen grass as Fia stood, anxiously gripping fistfuls of her dress.

"...Yes, that is my name, and what of you? Lest you be a figment of my mind?" she carefully questioned, stepping back from the man. He cocked his head at her mannerisms in confusion, not aware he was so disarming to see, "No, I am more than a construct of your thoughts, my lady. I thought you understood who you laid with."

Fia froze, "...Your majesty?" "Simply Godwyn, my lady."

The Prince of Death was dreaming, and that begged the question. When would he awaken?

Deathless Revelations

Fia studied Godwyn intently as she reached to hold his face, "...What grace gave you a soul and a mind again, Lord Godwyn?"

His hand rested over hers, turning his face into her palm with a quiet sigh, "Rebirth wrought by a deathbed companion. Of all the nobles you've graced with your gifts, you never did so with a demigod?"

Fia shook her head, "No, I am not of this land, simply beckoned here by grace."

"Regardless, I am in your debt, my lady." His lips were cold against her knuckles before he released her hand, "I don't know your name."

"Tis Fia, my lord." she murmured, "...Will we awaken from this dream?"

" Soon, yes." Godwyn nodded and unsteadily rose to his feet, "..When I have a body that is more than a metastasizing tumor to inhabit again, I'll see what the demigods left of the world. What was it like for you, Lady Fia?"

Her thoughts went to the Round Table Hold and the fear that persisted amongst her fellow denizens, "It was a very cold and abrasive circumstance for me and my skills. Your homeland is a world unaccustomed to death, and they rebuke practitioners of anything reminding them that their time is fleeting and finite." She had embraced few in her time before laying with Godwyn, and the fate of her companion was an uncomfortable unknown whilst Fia continued to dream.

"What worries you?" Godwyn's lilting voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"...I had assistance in finally reaching you, my lord. A friend of mine who never shied away from my embrace. I wonder if she succeeded in her ascension to Elden Lord, or if she fell like so many before her." Fia confessed, looking to Godwyn with a soft sigh, "If I awaken with you, I would like to know she was safe."

"It will be done," his cold hand was gentle when it cradled hers, "I would loathe to rejoin the waking world without you."

Elia hadn't been one for conversation since departing the citadel, save for a few brisk words with Millicent, she was silent through dinner and into her shift on night watch. It was Millicent who hounded Radagon to go investigate.

"She won't tell me what bothers her." she nudged his side, "Go find out, please?"

Blissfully, Miquella was asleep in the tent and Radagon sat mending the broken fissures in Elia's armour yet again. He gave a soft nod, "I will try. Go to sleep Millicent, it's late enough as it is."

Rising to his feet, he strode over to Elia and knelt, lightly shaking her shoulder.

"You're quiet today, what is it?"

Elia glanced at him over her shoulder, "Am I going to spend my life outrunning those who make a bid for the Elden Ring?"

He flinched, and that was a question that loomed in his mind with gruesome implications. The Sanguine Noble had been an upjumped underling, hungry and scrabbling. But she was a tool that could still be an emissary for an intangible god, and Elia was a powerful and free floating piece, "...We might. I won't lie to you, you sit in Marika's seat as a key to power."

Elia pressed her hands to her face, "Your son thinks me to be a warmonger and demon, Ranni thinks I betrayed her on a fickle change of heart, Fia is still fucking asleep. My allies are you, Sellen, and Millicent. That leaves a very small cohort and a vulnerable foundation."

"...We're slated to return to Leyndell, do you want to revisit the Erdtree?" He suggested.

"I'm not entering the same pact that broke Marika." Elia muttered.

"I don't expect you to restore the golden order. My commitment to that institution was…a necessary fixture to keep my independence and to keep Marika in check. It failed my children, and it failed you." Radagon sat next to her then, "But we are treading water with few other avenues, do you wish to speak with the greater will, as one immortal to another."

"Radagon I would be a fish hoping to speak to a whale." Elia shook her head, "..No, I'd sooner want to see if Fia is safe." "...I'd like to accompany you, if it's bringing you so close to Godwyn's corpse." Radagon advised.

"So afraid the prince of death will rise and snatch me?" Elia cracked a wry smile.

"We don't know how volatile his flesh is, it corrupted the tree's very roots." Radagon countered.

"Fine, fine, just don't disturb Fia when we visit." she muttered.

"It's not your friend that worries me." Radagon sighed and glanced sidelong to her, "...You aren't alone in this ordeal, please remember that."

"Even if your son hates me?" Elia met his gaze.

"Yes, even then."

Fia awoke to fading sunlight and the fresh winter breeze, groaning against the harsh firmness of metal against her chest as she came to. She was carried on the back of a man taller than her, and her breath hitched into an uncharacteristic shriek as she kicked and wrangled her way out of his hold. The result was them toppling into a head on the beaten path, and her scrambling to her feet as she huffed, "W-Who are you to pull me from my sleep!?"

Her kidnapper held his scuffed brow with a hissing breath, wincing as he peered up at her. She recognized that face, yet not his eyes. The blackness was absent, and the face of death stared back with eyes the colour of dusk. "...You kick harder than I expected," he muttered, rubbing his temple as he surveyed Fia, "Do you not recognize me, my lady?"

She swallowed hard, slowly ventured closer, "...Prince Godwyn," she murmured, "...we're truly awake now, in the waking world?"

"Awake and alive." He affirmed with a gentle nod, "Are you strong enough to walk?" He was pleasantly surprised to see she retained her constitution despite weeks of sleep, she must have benefited from the vigour she sapped in her embraces. Godwyn rose to his feet, offering his hand to Fia with a brief bow, "It is a pleasure to finally meet face to face, my lady."

"...You were a monolith of a corpse, my lord. How are you here, as you would have been in life?" Fia murmured.

"I would be a poor excuse for a demigod if I lacked any will to reshape my flesh when reborn. It took time as we slept, but my body is reformed and my own, and the corpse will rot now with time and the elements."

Tentatively, Fia took his hand, "...I see, and where are we going?"

"Leyndell." Godwyn replied, "I'd like to meet who finally had the bravado to burn the Erdtree and end this stalemate."

Fia froze, "...Beg your pardon?" her gaze shifted to the lilting tree, its glow subdued and its bark blackened with gold streaking as the bark began to slake off in sheets of charcoal, "O-Oh stars…"

"...Someone finally won." Godwyn murmured, "I would like to know who can restore the rune of death to its proper place." Fia's stomach dropped, "...I have a suspicion as to who accomplished this." Godwyn's eyes brightened, nodding for her to continue.

"...My companion, Elia." Fia murmured, "...She holds the mended curse mark that slew your soul and the flesh of Ranni the

Witch."

Godwyn's expression sobered at the mention of the rune, "...A mark she hasn't reintegrated into the ring. Do you know why?"

"...She was weighing the future of the world carefully, how she was courted by Ranni, and her interest in securing the ring away from the wills of competing gods. I trust her to keep the mark safe, but her will is her own." Fia murmured, "...She gave me warmth and comfort where few else would deign to entertain the thought."

"If your friend is negotiable to restoring a natural function of the world, I have no conflict with her will." Godwyn replied, brows furrowed at the prospect.

"...she was burdened by the fear of losing a companion." Fia murmured, remembering too many nights of Elia's anxieties staving off sleep, one dead end after another in her pursuit of a cure for the rot, "...Be mindful of that, she feared death taking another companion."

"Death is a natural construct that we grew unaccustomed to, a course of action that destroyed countless lives and the firmament of this land." Godwyn was undeterred, "Was your intent in finding me not to restore that law?"

"It was." Fia corrected with a stern note in her tone, "Yet I'm not without gratitude for the person who helped me reach as far as I did in finding you."

"Then you're far more generous than I am." he sighed, "Will you negotiate with her in my stead?"

"Yes, gladly." Fia leapt at the opportunity, "She'll listen to me, sooner than a stranger."

"Then I hope you succeed, Fia." Godwyn blinked in surprise at her fervour. What was her relationship with this woman?

The Ashen Capital loomed ahead.

Travelling with a child was a slow process. Miquella was bequeathed Torrent for the duration of their march, and by the third day, they had finally freed themselves of the snowfields. The boy was chatty when left with Radagon, and Elia and Millicent played the casual role of eavesdropping bystanders.

"...Your work with unalloyed gold is a fascinating if elusive subject." Radagon held his chin in thought, "What led you to the conclusion that severing a god's will was the better solution than the patronage of another?"

"Vying for patronage and to choose which noose closes around your throat in the name of worship is hardly a choice at all." Miquella murmured, "Malenia was blessed without any notion of consent. Unalloyed gold is leverage and a shield from being taken in the night by a god's errant whims. "

Radagon winced, knowing the greater will held equal disdain in Miquella's heart. …when it wasn't a means to an end, what bound him to the golden order. When presented with the chance to remake his destiny, he leapt for the opportunity, if at Elia's expense. Faith was transactional, more than he had cared to admit.

"...Worship was a stepping stone to make the most of the situation Marika twisted my arm into." Radagon confessed. Miquella cocked his head in confusion.

"Elaborate, why did you act like a leal hound for so long if it was purely pragmatism that drove you?"

"...I bought into the belief for a time, make no mistake about that." Radagon murmured, "I was an extension of Marika until Liurnia. Loving Rennala…it was fresh air and new motivation. I made my choices and took pride in them, than simply following orders and leaving death in my wake. I was happy."

"...That happiness ended when Godfrey was banished."

"Yes, it did. I needed a new foundation, I refused to be grafted back into Marika's will..and the greater will was growing dissonant from her wants and vice versa. I was a useful leash to keep the order structured and to prevent her from altering the ring more than she already had. …Two things kept me sane in my second marriage. My children, and my duties as Elden Lord. I wouldn't have kept my personhood if you and Malenia hadn't been brought into this world, Miquella."

"...I'm glad you survived rather than her." Miquella murmured, casting a glance to Elia, "...do you think you will survive this marriage you got yourself into?"

"I do." he rolled his eyes, "She isn't a turncoat."

"A Tarnished emboldened by ambition is playing with fire."

"She is why we both stand here, remember that." Radagon corrected, and Miquella rode on in contemplative silence, "If you aren't grateful, at least be humbled by that truth."

Royal Audience

There was miniscule progress in the days it took to reach Leyndell. Miquella would deign to breathe a few words in Elia's direction. She took it upon herself to try to confront the empyrean that afternoon as Torrent lagged behind the group.

The boy tensed as she approached. She sighed, and raised a hand, "I just wish to talk, if you would allow me?"

"Do whatever you like, Tarnished." Miquella replied evenly, gold eyes studying her intently. Elia sucked in a tight breath, fighting the bile that rose at that diminutive title.

"I'm sorry."

Miquella stared, "Eh? For what in particular, for my sister? You cannot mean that in your heart."

"I'm sorry for the grief I caused you, and for my severity despite your grief." she murmured, "...If someone despoiled my sister, I would want them dead, I would see them dead by whatever means possible… I expected gratitude for saving you, and that wasn't a mindful or fair perspective to the emotions of a brother who survived his sibling. I'm sorry for that." she dipped her head.

Miquella sat in uncomfortable silence. He preferred her pride and stubbornness. Her apology was an awkward option he hadn't expected of her, and he wasn't going to forgive her.

"I don't forgive you," he muttered, tightening his grip on the reins as he waited for her to leave.

"I understand that, but an apology should still be given, and I can ensure I never lash out at you unfairly again." she murmured, and moved to rejoin Millicent at the head of the group. Miquella scowled at the farce, and called after her, "...I want my sister's limbs back when you have replacements, is that clear?" "Clear as crystal," Elia called over her shoulder.

"Good." he muttered, setting his gaze on the dimmed Erdtree looming above them. He wished he had seen it burn with his own eyes. She was infuriating, but it was a sobering reminder that Elia was far from useless, what had she sacrificed to channel the Giant's Flame?

Ash stirred underfoot as Godwyn strode into the throne room, hands clasped as his back as he eyed the remains. The Elden

Lord's throne sat empty, Marika's crown still abandoned upon its seat. Blood marred the floor, and Godwyn felt ill at ease here. He had been raised in this palace since infancy, where nostalgia should have preserved his fondness, those thrones only sparked ire and grief.

Malenia and Miquella, cursed prodigies deserving of far more love than his mother had bestowed upon them. Radahn, a competitor and respectable lad who honored Godfrey more than his own father. Rhykard, the reclusive and studious sort who was lost in his work and madness before his family had come to realize the depths of the predator's depravity. Godrick the Golden, a descendant he had failed to raise into an honorable constitution.

Godwyn narrowed his eyes at the final throne. Lunar Princess Ranni. The reclusive girl that never shed her loyalty to the House of Caria. Godwyn had loved and embraced his siblings, the twins were the one thing he stood in solidarity with Radagon to protect. Radahn was a brother in arms. Ranni was the isolated enigma he failed to understand or build a rapport with.

How many of them were dead? Fia had confirmed Radahn's death and sickness, apparently the general met an honorable end in combat after suffering from the scarlet rot. Malenia, why had she fallen into the pits of conquest against her own family? His death was the beginning of the end, Godwyn understood that much. But why? Why had he been designed to die as the herald of the shattering? Who broke the world and his mother?

These were all uncomfortable uncertainties, to which Fia held few answers.

"...Your friend can clarify what happened, truly?" he murmured quietly, not daring to hope yet for any certainties.

"She can," Fia nodded, lingering near the stairs that lead up to the thrones. Godwyn waved her over, "You're no less worthy of standing here, Fia," he assured, taking a seat on a vacant throne, " ...Did your friend share any revelations of the shattering's inception?"

"...She discovered the survival of Ranni, who managed to transcend her own flesh into the body of a doll. Elia … she assisted the princess for a period of her journey, and had Ranni's patronage against Radahn, aided by her warrior Blaidd. For a time it was a relationship of mutual convenience, their accord eventually was broken, however…and Elia brought me the second half of the curse mark shortly after." Fia murmured, "...She didn't wish to share what she had learned, but Ranni had done something to unnerve her. Apparently I was less distasteful than the princess to help."

"You are not distasteful." Godwyn raised a brow, "I dare say you're quite loyal to have never lost her confidence and help, even in spite of the rune not being used. Yet…she found the curse mark on Ranni, and she lived on even still. That incomplete rune destroyed my being. Why was Ranni allowed to survive?"

Fia sighed, her stomach twisting at the potential implications of their speculation, "Her flesh was slain, while your own body still lived on in a cancerous state without a soul and will of its own."

Godwyn's expression tensed, "...I see. I intend to hear her account of this, when she arrives." The cogs in the prince's mind were turning, and every clue painted Ranni in an ever more damning position.

The approach to Leyndell was a strange affair. Elia had last entered this city with an urgency to race against death, victory had been a foolish certainty in her mind as she tore through Morgott and dueled Godfrey as one Tarnished to another. To think she would be walking back through these halls with her rival as a tentative friend and husband.

The irony made her scoff, and she cast a sidelong glance to Radagon, "I have the sense you never enjoyed this city, even in its prime?"

"I certainly did not." he grumbled, "Do you remember much of it?"

She shook her head, "Would you believe me if I told you I never set foot in Leyndell?"

Radagon stared, "...You mean to tell me you spent your life in Liurnia and the countryside?" She was well traveled, but the more he pondered it, he could understand why she never set foot here. "You preferred to remain out of sight and out of mind from the

Golden Order?"

"More or less, yes. I had nothing to bring me here, this city was never vulnerable or sacked until the shattering, and I always had work in the outlying villages and trade routes… It never seemed a welcoming place for foreigners."

"...We were a very insular lot here, I won't deny that." Radagon sighed, "Your culture would have set you apart, but you are Numen, I imagine Marika would have tolerated your deviations of faith if it was kept private. By the end of her life she was far from devout."

"I pledged my loyalty to Rennala, and I wouldn't be pressed to break that vow." Elia retorted.

"That, she would have taken issue with." Radagon winced, staying near her side as they ascended the steps.

Miquella was on foot now, keeping near Millicent as the two made tentative conversation.

"...You're surprisingly close to my sister's stature, to make use of her limb." Miquella noted the uncanny resemblance between Malenia and this woman.

"So I've been told." Millicent nodded, "...You grew up with her, how intense is the resemblance?"

"Extremely." He noted, "The rot didn't go so far with you though. She lost her eyes by adolescence. You only lost an arm and a leg?"

"Yes, thankfully." Millicent sighed, side eying Miquella sternly at his prying.

"How did you forestall and purge the rot?" he stepped closer, reaching for her hand with an assessing look.

Millicent wrenched it away with a scowl, "You have poor manners for a princeling. Ask your questions but don't just grab at me, it's unkind and rude."

Miquella blinked, "...Ah, sorry. What did you use…Elia apparently was scouring my notes and work for a cure?"

"Yes, she was, your needle is what bought me as much time as it did until Radagon intervened," Millicent replied stiffly,

"...Binding me to Elia as her shadow was a process that severed the outer god's connection. Your thesis wasn't wrong, to sever the connection between a host and an outer god can at least mitigate the effects of many curses and illnesses. The needle alone was too weak, however. An incomplete tool in that respect."

"...But it could have been enough if given time," Miquella sighed, pressing his hand to his brow with a grimace.

"Don't stop your work. There are others beyond me who still suffer. Caelid still suffers from the aeonia." Millicent countered softly.

"...Its been centuries." Miquella whispered in horror, "What happened?"

"Malenia bloomed to cripple Radahn." Millicent replied simply, "The region has been a waste ever since."

"...Why did your sister omit that fact?" Miquella scowled, "She never minced any other details."

"I don't know, but I can only tell you what I have seen, and what good your work can still do now that you're awake, your highness." Millicent replied evenly, "Reflect on what you can do, the world can still benefit from you being alive, Miquella."

He stared at the girl, and felt a strange bit of pride in his chest at those words. Millicent was far from deferential, but he could sense she held faith in his mind and work. That was respect.

A pale man sat on the throne Elia herself was owed. To his right, stood Fia, her hands anxiously clasped as she watched the cohort approach. The tension was palpable as Elia's eyes widened, and she took a slow step forward.

"F-Fia, you woke up…" a tentative smile graced her face, and she would have rushed forward if Radagon hadn't caught her by the arm.

"Godwyn the Golden." The hammer was leveled at the man as Radagon grimaced, "Rise, that is not your seat."

Fia was pale, drawing back her cowl and stepping forward, "...Sir, I ask that you let my friend approach, please."

Godwyn cast a wary look to Fia, glowering at Radagon until he spotted that familiar mop of golden hair. He shot to his feet in an instant, and Miquella pushed forward to close the distance, all but tackling Godwyn in a tight embrace.

"Y…You were dead to the world, brother…" the boy whispered, Radagon lowered his weapon with a tense exhale, his expression somber as Godwyn tenderly dragged his hand through Miquella's gleaming locks.

"Only for a time, Miquella, I found myself lucky to have a helping hand back into the land of the living." Godwyn managed a brave smile, lifting his younger sibling into his arms with raised brows, "And what became of you?"

"...I slept for a long while, Godwyn." Miquella murmured, resting his brow on the prince of death's shoulder.

Elia watched in stunned silence, hapless and gently tugging her arm from Radagon as she rushed to finally tug Fia into a tight embrace, "...I missed you." The deathbed companion wheezed at the force of the embrace, wrapping her arms about Elia's waist with a casual ease as she kissed her companion's cheek.

"I'm grateful I only slept a short while, Elia," Fia whispered, "I have much to explain…would you care to walk with me?"

"Always," Elia squeezed her hand with a tentative smile, "I have a good deal to tell you as well…and good news regarding Millicent."

"You found a cure?" Fia's voice welled in relief.

Elia nodded quickly, "We did," her smile was infectious as she was tugged away from the brothers and Radagon. She had missed Fia's tender affection immensely, and was loath to abstain from her companion's company.

Tender Secrets

Fia walked with her arm looped through Elia's as she spoke in hushed tones, "...He has many things he wants to discuss with you, Elia…and neither of us anticipated you bringing back those two in your company."

"...Miquella and Radagon." Elia sighed, "I'm…I'm not Elden Lord, I couldn't best Radagon in combat, and he wouldn't tolerate

Marika's continued hold over the Elden Ring and his imprisonment."

Fia tensed, "What did he do to you, Elia?"

"He gave it a new host," Elia splayed her hand over her chest, grimacing at the thought of the great runes entangled with her very flesh, "He's resumed his place as Elden Lord, and found himself a third wife in me…I helped to find him his son as a measure of brokering trust with him."

"...do you want him supplanted?" Fia whispered, taking Elia's face into her hands with a pleading look, "Why bargain with a man that ruthless?"

Elia leaned into her palms with a shaky exhale, "Because I was alone, and I needed a solution before Millicent was dead."

"She's safe, is she not?" Fia pressed, "What leverage does he have?"

Elia shook her head, "...Not much, Rennala and Sellen seem plenty prepared to put him on the chopping block if he sours."

"...You have my rune, why don't you?" Fia murmured, "He's taken his pound of flesh, coerced you-"

"Fia, I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting an opponent at every turn or waiting for another horror. I want the world to be quiet, and he can solve the mess his other half wrought." Elia muttered, "I'm done."

Fia brushed her thumbs over Elia's cheeks, "You know that isn't true. You're not finished until you're in the ground and dead."

"I want a respite all the same," the queen murmured, "...You managed to revive Godwyn, and he's been hospitable to you?"

"Y-Yes, he's a bit melancholic, but kind to me." Fia affirmed, "...He wishes for death to be restored as a natural construct, as do I.

If your sister is safe, are you willing to do such a thing?"

Elia relented with a soft sigh, "Yes, I'm willing to honor my part in our accord…you've never been dishonest in your intentions and Godwyn never would have suffered in a corrupted state if death hadn't been tampered with in the first place. …It's one step of many to mend Marika's damage."

"Thank you." Fia's lips were soft against her mouth as Elia was tugged down by the shoulder. Elia sank into the motion, wrapping her arm tightly around Fia's waist as she cupped the back of the maiden's head in a tender cradle. Oh, how she had missed this.

Radagon stared at the brothers with crossed arms, "Do you care to enlighten me as to how you still live, Godwyn? A miracle it may be, it still requires an explanation."

"You would need to thank Lady Fia, a companion to the woman you arrived with, Elia was it?" Godwyn cocked his head at

Radagon, "What is she in this mess, cradling grace in her very body?"

"Your mother's successor, in the plainest sense. Marika is gone." Radagon ground out.

Godwyn's expression faltered, "...I suspected some of our family were lost to us…and you still exist as Elden lord, with a third wife to ruin?"

"That jab is hardly original." Radagon sighed, "Yes, I still hold my rank, and what is Fia to you?"

"An ally and friend" Godwyn replied, glancing at Miquella then, "I'd like to speak to your father alone, if you don't object?"

The boy slowly nodded, wary to see the two left alone in a battle of wits. Yet this was a conversation for their ears alone, and far from his reach to solve. Miquella quickly departed the throne room, accompanied by Millicent.

When his son was out of earshot, Radagon glowered at the prince, "Tell me, are you hoping to claim the mantle of king, boy?"

"No," Godwyn exhaled sharply, "I want this world to relearn the importance of death in the order of things."

Radagon stared, "...That falls under a different authority."

"I never aimed to negotiate with you under any circumstance, I'm here to speak to the champion." Godwyn crossed his arms.

"I bested her in combat." Radagon corrected.

"You certainly don't seem to be the deciding party in this situation all the same." Godwyn stepped past Radagon, "I have no quarrel with you, I would like to keep it that way, if solely for Miquella's happiness."

"Fuck off, you gilded pissant."

In the halls abandoned by grace, Godwyn walked, head dipped in contemplation as he searched for Fia. His home felt akin to a looted corpse, a place he was keen to depart from soon. His stomach twisted, as it always did at the sight of Radagon.

His mother's left hand, a hound reined in solely by rank and the hierarchy of their family. Radagon hadn't broken his family, but the man was a stinging reminder of the next chapter it had entered. The twins had brought him happiness, Rhykard for a brief window had been brilliant in his studies and potential, Radahn the brother and warrior Godfrey could have sired in another life.

The golden age was long over, Godwyn's death had only been the final nail in the coffin.

Godwyn startled at the sight ahead of him, seeing Fia in her delicate grace cradled in a lover's embrace. A thigh hiked over Elia's hip, their lips meeting again after drawing breath. Warmth touched his cheeks as he quickly skirted back behind a pillar, his thoughts scrambled and pulse racing with mortification.

Ah, when Fia had said companion, she meant in the intimate sense. He swallowed hard, beginning to understand who's vigor likely had helped pry his soul from the thrall of death. He tentatively stole another glance at the pair, and pinched his brow with a soft sigh. This complicated things, terribly. He had a blooming fondness for Fia, yet it was simple to understand how Radagon stoked little romance with a woman he had shackled to him in marriage.

Godwyn was not here to be the jealous rival or an afflicted partner. Affections were hardly a finite resource, and he would hedge his bets in Elia being negotiable to her companion being adored by a secondary party. He slowly stepped out, clearing his throat to call their attention with an apologetic look.

Elia's cheeks were flushed as she gently lowered Fia to her feet, "A-ah, you had wanted to speak with me, Godwyn?"

"I did, " he nodded, paying them little mind as Fia straightened her dress with hurried motions, "...You two were able to catch up I hope?"

Fia's cowl blissfully hid her flustered state as she nodded, her hand still gently clutched by Elia who spoke, "We were… Fia was sorely missed in the past few weeks."

"I can understand where a few weeks apart from a companion could still be hell," Godwyn murmured, and extended a hand to Elia for her to follow his lead, "...I'd like to discuss the rune of death."

Elia nodded, walking with him with a grimace, "...I withheld using it when Millicent's life hung in the balance. It was a selfish action, but one I wouldn't change."

"That is neither here nor there to me. Presently, what is your stance on the laws woven into the Elden Ring?" he pressed, "Your family is safe, and Radagon may be king, yet he cannot alter your more fundamentally than he already has. It's a decision in your hands alone."

Elia wrung her wrists, "I see the importance of restoring death when it corrupts and festers in its current state. Reforging it into the ring is a choice I agree with, but it will have to happen quickly before Radagon can attempt to decide that he knows best in a situation beyond his influence."

"...You'd act behind his back for this?" Godwyn murmured in pleasant surprise.

"Yes. He doesn't rule my decisions." she nodded.

"I appreciate your candor. Yet, I do have another question for you, something that presses me since I was revived." Godwyn sighed, "Ranni. Why was the cursemark's second half found on her corpse? Did it also factor into your broken accord with her?"

Elia grimaced, "...She plotted your assassination to slake off her empyrean flesh. A soul and a body would be felled, just not of the same person. I had no desire to be her consort initially, I wouldn't empower her age of the stars when she thrust the world and her family into the hell that has been the shattering. Godwyn, most of your siblings ate each other alive, Ranni is no greater than them."

The man's face was stern as stone, and his jaw set when he stared Elia down.

So she had done it. Little Ranni, the conniving girl mourning her mother and despising her father enough to unhinge the entire dynasty in a bid at surmounting God. Godwyn braided his fingers together as he cocked his head, "She still lives, lurking somewhere within Liurnia, yes?"

Elia tensed, "She's absconded to the stars… Radagon hasn't found her yet."

"That matters little to me. She still lives." Godwyn whispered, "What do you owe to her, to keep her safe?"

"I owe her nothing, but she matters to her father, and he deserves the dignity of closure with his family." Elia countered and loomed over Godwyn, brows furrowed, "Vengeance gains us nothing."

"Radagon is hardly deserving of your loyalty or goodwill, Elia."

"That is my decision to make, leave Ranni be and the mending rune will be used. You only need to keep Radagon distracted and let this conflict go, Godwyn. You're alive by Fia's devotion and grace, honor that and live. Don't sow more death into the land to settle your score, please."

"...You were cast out into a fate worse than death as a Tarnished. You slew your way, step by step, to become a monarch." Godwyn murmured.

"I wanted to be King. Not a vessel." Elia's shoulders sagged, "Neither of us are getting the victory we want, but we can still live." Godwyn shook his head , "...Where did you leave the rune, it wasn't with Fia, nor would you keep it, lest Radagon find it?"

"...I left it in my village. What remains of it at least." Elia grimaced.

Unbound

Elia had a growing cognizance of where the runes sat in her body. The rune of the unborn lingered in the abdomen. The anchor sat at the base of her spine. Radahn's rune had burned in her sternum, counterbalancing Malenia's. Mohg's Rune seemed to root itself in the marrow and blood of her form. Morgott's rune had melded with the anchor, a cornerstone of what held her body together in its current state and resided in the spine.

Of her options, the rune of Perfect Order, The Rune of the Death Prince, Elia opted for death. The Golden Order was a defunct institution…yet Gold Mask's observations seemed to yield a truth that could pertain to Miquella. Elia slipped the herbalist's pouch over her neck, and hoped the Unalloyed would have use for it as a useful tool to ward off the outer gods and further his research.

Godwyn's rune had been painfully easy to retrieve in function. Buried in the urn housing her father's ashes, it was as undisturbed as the day she had stowed it here, in a forgotten corner of the world. It weighed heavy in Elia's palm, a cold construct of iron forever imbued with a wintery chill. When she left the remains of the small tomb, Millicent spoke up, "...You know what you're doing."

"I hope so." she whispered, wishing Fia were here to offer any insight. Elia had made use of the runes as her journey progressed, yet to bind them into her constitution was a muddled process likely only Radagon understood. She hadn't stolen his hammer, and wouldn't ask Millicent to attempt a foolhardy experiment. Channeling the Rune of the Unborn had been akin to casting a healing spell, the deliberate artifice of flesh and blood being shaped however, instead of mending the existing material.

Elia clutched the rune tightly in her fist, her brows furrowed in concentration. It lay unresponsive, stagnant.

Millicent's gaze flicked to the path, wary of what she saw. It would have been a relief to see Radagon even in his fury. A gaggle of lithe figures approached the village, knives drawn and fanning out when they caught sight of the sisters. Elia hastily drew her swords, Millicent armed and at her back with bared teeth.

"Who are you lot?!" Elia demanded, leveling Excorio for the head of the group, presumably a woman in black armor and a rugged cloak.

"Stupid words for the sisters you've already slain." The leader's tone grated with disdain as she leveled her knife towards her target, "Tarnished, you hold something you are hardly fit to comprehend nor use." Her weapon was a malformed and unforgiving tool of black steel, glinting with the same oily sheen as Maliketh's blade. Elia's expression darkened as she slipped the rune into her pouch, "Hand it over."

"I'm afraid I must decline your request," Elia drawled, "Answer me this. Were you the woman to carve Godwyn like a piece of meat?"

"No, that champion is long since dead." The assassin lunged without further preamble, Lacero caught the knife against its sprouting protrusion of a point, and Elia's boot stomped against the stomach of the assailant. The assassin was sent sprawling back, pinned by a boot to her wrist, and Excorio was driven into her throat.

One down, five more to dispatch.

Elia had no respite from slaying one woman, and the knife had many replicants wielded by the assassins. Millicent was agile and hard to pry from Elia's proximity, her sword catching on the knife of an assassin lunging for Elia from the flank. Another had the gall to throw their weapon in the confusion, grazing Elia's hand and sinking into her breastplate.

Chitin was a strong and thicker substance than they assumed, the tip of the blade kicking Elia's sternum as she paled. She narrowly dove aside as she tore the blade from her chestplate, Lacero having been dropped as her hand bled and coated the assassin's knife resting in her grip.

The body of the felled leader began to writhe, and Elia swore under her breath.

Millicent's blade swept forward to cleave the head of the rising woman. When her body hit the dirt, it ceased all movement.

Fervent looks of alarm were exchanged between the formerly deathless sisters.

They should have run.

Likely they would have, if Elia hadn't regained her footing, blood roaring in her ears as she tasted bile and grabbed her nearest assailant by the collar. Excorio was driven through their chestplate and out their back, a plaintive groan spilling from the woman's helmet as she was run through. Millicent dispatched two, and one remained, shaking and choking out, "I-I yield - please."

"...you come to my home, and ask mercy from me?" Elia sluggishly raised her sword, and eyed the woman, "What compelled you and your sisters to do this foolishness? Do you know who we are?"

"...A tarnished once of no renown, now immortal and holding the potential to reshape the land." The assassin nodded, hastily removing her helmet, "You've slain false kings and their cults. Yet still those who live in death fester."

"...You have little understanding as to why I came here." Elia sent the woman scathing glare, "Your sisters are dead - for what?

To restore death?"

"Y-Yes! We only wanted the rune." she stammered, likely the youngest of her group.

"A likely story. Why attack Ranni and her cohort? A few others of your order have attacked me on sight." Elia pressed as she approached.

"...We aren't a united front, nor have we existed as such since our mothers and grandmothers conducted the night of black knives."

"You may have not wished to kill me over this dispute, five others here however were, and are dead for it." Elia sighed.

"Go. Spread word far and wide. The Rune of Death is unbound, and the Elden Ring rests with me. Elia, daughter of Megathirio." The assassin slowly rose to her feet, backing away from Elia with all the caution of a deer before bolting. The Tarnished held her face with a low groan, praying she would abandon that damned title once and for all. She was a person, not a vile wretch with no name to lay claim to.

Returning to Leyndell sowed the seeds of dread in Elia, the mending rune settling somewhere in the depths of her stomach, just above her abdomen. There was an irony for life and death to situate themselves so close in the body, and she knew in her gut, Radagon wouldn't be deceived when he laid eyes on her.

He hadn't followed them. Godwyn had done his part with resounding success for Millicent and Elia not to have been missed in the day and night they had been unaccounted for. When she approached the throne room, it was with baited breath and sickness looming in her stomach.

Godwyn was there in yet another droning debate with Miquella and Fia as onlookers as he and Radagon stood nose to nose.

"How is it lost upon you that the Order was a hollow construct by the time of my father's exile?" Godwyn hissed, "My mother loved him, her agency was robbed of her just as you were robbed of your own, Radagon."

"She never failed to relish the control she still possessed over our day to day lives, and never did she dote upon the twins as she did you."

"...I won't deny that, but you both were bound by faith as any other prisoner in a cell. She isn't wholly your devil." Godwyn pressed, his gaze flicking over the Elden Lord's shoulder to catch a glimpse of Elia's form and Millicent's flaming locks, "...You succeeded."

It begged no question, there was a newfound weight in Elia's presence, and Radagon's throat tightened when he took in the sight of her. Elia's voice was terribly worn as she nodded, "It's done. Your assassins made an appearance though…"

Godwyn flinched, "You fought them off with no issue-" the prince tasted blood as Radagon's knuckles broke his cheekbone and jaw. The punch sent the young man sprawling, and Radagon loomed with fury in his gaze.

"Sly as a fox and with a wit twice as cunning, what did you enable?!"

Fia rushed forward in an instant to shield Godwyn, and Miquella went on the offense with a strained exhale. The purple array flickered for an instant before the kinetic spell threw Radagon back to topple into a throne. Miquella stood between his father and brother, his expression solemn as he spoke, "You settle this with words, both of you. Whatever she did, discuss it, but spill no blood."

Godwyn held his healing jaw with a grimace, and Fia tugged him to his feet as Radagon sat upright from the rubble of stone and wood, leveling a hateful look to the prince of death, "You had her graft a rune into herself, with no regard for the consequences of doing so."

"He asked me, Radagon." Elia interjected coolly, moving to confront him as she called over to Miquella and Godwyn, "Go, a son and father shouldn't have to fight, please."

Radagon was still as death, staring at her with wide eyes as he tried to discern what to do with this mess.

Everyone had vacated the throne room, even Fia and Millicent, at Elia's behest. It was a wise decision, when Radagon seemed primed to attack at any given moment.

Elia loomed above his sprawled form, her expression tired, "Are you going to fight me again over this?"

"Is that what you want?" He murmured quietly, staring up at her in bewilderment, "Why did you do it, and why did you undermine me with a ruse?"

"We have a very limited history of successful cooperation, Radagon, and I keep my word to my friend."

"Just a friend?" he raised a brow as his tone sharpened, "Your fondness for Fia hardly seems so quaint."

Elia's blood boiled, and she braced her boot firmly on his chest, "You hold no right or claim to me, consort or not! Keep her name out of your mouth if it'll only be spoken with derision."

"If holding your affection is an avenue to power I'm surprised more parties haven't cloyed for your attention." Radagon seethed with more venom than he himself anticipated, "Was there ever a chance for a peaceful co-existence with you, if you juggle a cohort of lovers?"

"You know nothing of me, my relationships, or what I stand for. Never claim to, and rot you maidenless hack." Elia moved to step off of him with a disdainful look, "How did Rennala ever fall for a petty and spiteful man such as you?"

"Dare I say it, I'm far from who I was when I met her." Radagon gripped her ankle in a bruising hold, "And you, how far you are from whomever you were before you fell from grace?"

Elia's throat closed, and his grip was unrelenting as she whispered, "If your constitution is what is worthy of being Elden Lord, I thank the stars I will never be on the same echelon as you. Draw your weapon. If you want violence, you will have it."

The Way of Kings

It was fitting to fight Radagon in the same chamber where she had rivaled Godfrey. She stood opposed from Radagon, assuming the waterfowl stance as he held the hammer primed to swing with crushing force. Their fight began on the first instinctive lunge. Radagon slammed the hammer down, purple runes pulsing as the ground rippled into a plume of debris and dust.

The room was shrouded and the resounding impact startled the palace's few denizens. Godwyn and Miquella watched from the base of the steps as the fight was underway with dread building. Martial spats among the divine were never bloodless, the fights between Radagon and Marika had been few as they were climactic.

Godwyn was reluctant to see what damage he could do to another person not of his own flesh and instinct. The brothers raced to survey the damage.

Elia had driven Lacero into Radagon's eye, the man's yell rivaling thunder as the hammer was swung for her chest. Her armor split under the impact, as did her ribs. Ichor gleamed in the river that flowed between chitinous plates, her body collapsed against the far flung pillar. She coughed after several moments of silence, her gaze foggy as she peered at Radagon's approaching form. She had seconds to move, quickly unstrapping her defunct breastplate that now did more damage in fraying and stabbing her flesh than it did to protect her.

A gaping wound allowed an unsightly visage of the elden ring's sigil housed in her ribcage, quickly obscured by mending tissue once her armor was discarded. Elia felt sick, to feel a body mend itself with no spell or potion was unnatural, and she was dead to rights from that hit. She should have been. A deadly arc almost lobbed off her head as she ducked, laboring for breath as she leaped at Radagon. She grabbed her shortsword still digging into his skull, twisting and wrenching it free as she hopped off of his chest, agile as a cat.

The man held his gouged eye, grimacing as he shouted, "Can you ever do more than swoop and evade about as well as a bird?!" Oh, he was furious with her, never one to shout in a match.

Elia, Godwyn, and Miquella all understood this break in Radagon's form as he took a moment to catch his breath, glowering at the woman, "Well!? Are you a warrior or a coward, Elia, fumbling one allegiance after another. Are you a pawn or playing at any grander designs of your own?"

The demigods didn't dare intervene, not with the man this frenzied. Elia's gaze was hawkish where she was crouched atop a pillar, eyeing him sternly as she tightly gripped her sword, "Bold words from a man like you, Radagon. No one made you an atlas for the world, twisted your arm into another marriage. Tell me, will I go mad like Rennala did for a time, will you properly kill me as you did Marika to feel some iota of agency?" Elia stood, her gaze cold, "Would the world care if you had died in the Erdtree?"

Radagon flinched, his words dying in his throat before the hammer was flung into the base of her pillar, crumbling marble as easily as wet paper. Elia toppled with a hitch in her breath, barely able to yell before Radagon closed his hand over her throat and held her aloft, his gaze level with hers as he contemplated his options.

Elia dug her nails into his arm with a grimace, eyeing him sharply in tense silence. Radagon was still as the statues that lay in disarray around them, his gaze boring into her. Her heart raced in her chest, and his eye slowly took shape as it mended in its socket. This was nothing like their training in Raya Lucaria, and Elia understood then the strength he repressed to not topple the Academy's architecture every time they crossed blows.

"You would be missed." Radagon mused, "Sellen, Rennala, Fia, Millicent, they all cherish you in some form or another. They would have my head on a pike for having done this." Radagon dropped her with a resigned look, "We are finished here, Elia. Do what you will for all I care."

Elia held her mending chest with a shaking exhale, her form sore and trembling as she unsteadily stood, backing away from him.

Fia was at her side, and Millicent hardly missed a beat. The shadow had her sword drawn and sent Radagon a scathing glare,

"Begone."

Radagon nodded stiffly, not exchanging another glance with Elia as he stalked off. Elia tucked her face into Fia's shoulder, her arms wrapped around them both tightly with a soft exhale, "T-thanks…"

Godwyn tentatively approached, "...I'd be of the mind to find shelter and make preparations to depart by morning…if we are all in agreement."

None of the women protested and were still tightly embraced, yet Miquella was absent, and in hot pursuit of his father. Godwyn shook his head in defeat, and offered Elia a hand up to her feet, "...You may have bitten off more than you can chew, Elia."

"I don't care." she whispered, "He is a hateful man and will suffer alone with his pride."

Radagon returned to the Erdtree Sanctum, still tense and his pulse failing to abate from the rush of a battle. What had she been thinking? A rune of an unknown make and construction shouldn't have been blindly used. It wasn't simply adding a brick to a wall, it was a keystone to an arch, upon which the whole structure could be strengthened or destroyed with an uncareful alteration.

She was lucky. Oh so terribly lucky to have returned without physical harm. He held his face with a lingering groan, cursing himself for baiting her, for falling to his baser instincts. Their score was far from settled…and he had added a hefty weight to her grudge against him.

It was his mistake on that front. Elia was impulsive, ruled by interpersonal bonds and far too generous in her assistance to her loved ones to allow them to reshape the relic that she embodied. It was equally insulting to have her broker an understanding with Godwyn in so short of a time. How many weeks had he spent earning her trust, learning how to live with a feral woman?

"Fuck me." he swore under his breath, pondering if it was too late to find her if he swallowed his pride now. Someone blocked his path, however. Miquella.

"You've made a mess of things, in less than an hour." Miquella deadpanned, "Do you want to explain why you went at it with your wife like a feral cat? I don't see the logic. It felt rather idiotic to me."

"...She proposed a battle, if I wanted violence I would have it."

"Ah! So you accepted, like a fool." Miquella grimaced, "What was there to gain, when you could have asked her reasons?

Godwyn means her no harm, and isn't a rash man."

"Your brother has an agenda. One I don't inherently trust." Radagon hissed.

"I don't like her, but I do understand that this woman isn't hellbent to destroy the world. She thought this was a way to help fix it, one step at a time. Godwyn isn't a foe to you, and he didn't hope to undermine you beyond surmounting your anxieties as a husband and king." Miquella pressed, "Address the mess before she's gone, or you will never have a chance to amend this properly."

"Before she's gone, pardon?" Radagon stared.

"She means to leave, all of us do." Miquella crossed his arms, "I trust my brother, and if you intend to play the part of a fool, I will find better company to keep, Father."

"...Where is she?"

"Likely with Fia and Millicent, she was very shaken by how that fight ended."

The rapping on the door drew Elia from her sluggish haze, not quite asleep yet certainly not awake and alert. Millicent was posted at the door, and Fia had left for fresh bandages and salves.

"...Who is it?" she asked, wincing at how her voice grated in husky notes.

Millicent groaned, "It's Radagon."

"Fuck no." Elia hissed, "What does he want?"

"...To apologize?" Millicent's tone was uncertain, "He's unarmed." She called through the door, glowering at Radagon all the while as she held it shut.

Radagon sighed, "I need only a few minutes, please."

"It only took a few minutes for you to level the throne room." Millicent arched a brow, "No. I'm not leaving you with her unattended."

Elia sighed as their confrontation wore on, "...He gets five minutes, he can come in." The door groaned on its hinges, and Radagon stooped to clear the low entryway with a wince.

Elia sported new bandages, and thankfully wasn't in the same ichor stained clothes from their brawl. She eyed him as if he was a wolf, ready to strike in an instant, "What do you want?"

"...To apologize." He sighed, "For spiraling into a battle so quickly. I'm sorry I injured you."

"I am not staying in Leyndell for you." she ground out, "You've made it clear you won't negotiate, will overreach and assume the worst in people. How is that a viable consort, much less a friend?"

Radagon dipped his head, "It is not. I don't intend to ask you to stay…but I do wish to still travel with you."

"No." she shook her head, "We're returning to Liurnia. Find Ranni and your own lodging, I'm not going to welcome you with open arms when you take a hammer to every conflict of will you meet."

Radagon stared, brows furrowed and muttering, "...What do you intend to do from here on out?"

"Assist Miquella's research and see what can be done with purging the rot from Caelid. You foisted this role on me, I may as well do something substantial with it." Elia sighed, "Please leave."

The man lingered, dipping his head, "...I don't intend to duel you again, be safe in your travels, and keep Millicent close."

The Lone King

Radagon departed Leyndell that night. It would be a long march to return to the Carian Manor, and he had little desire to inhabit an empty palace after the others set off to Raya Lucaria. …He was reluctant to intrude this soon upon Rennala and Ranni, the conflict that would entail would be a draining ordeal.

Solitude was hell, but perhaps a necessary one to reassess his conceptions. Radagon set foot on the beaten path, he would head north and pay respects to his second daughter, Malenia. Even in death, he should understand what became of her in her last chapter of her life, spent waiting for Miquella's awakening.

It was quiet under the canopy of stars, to travel without the telltale sound of Torrent's trotting hooves, or to feel the damned steed chewing on his braid.

Radagon's dreams gave him no quarter. Once more, he was granted audience with his golden half. Marika laid on the outcropping, her chin resting in her hands.

"Did you like this one? Enough to feel sentimental?" She drawled as she flashed Radagon a coy grin. He sent her a tired glare, the hammer laying unclaimed between them. It was surprising that he hadn't lunged for a fight the moment he was awake.

Marika watched him curiously, languid and less tense than their last meeting, "Well, are you mute now, Radagon?" "Your son is alive." He bluntly stated, having little he wished to share with her.

Marika's demeanor shattered as she jolted at the news, sitting upright in a scramble to face him, "...My boy? Godwyn, if you're sick enough to life about such a thing-"

"You love your son. It's your one redeeming quality, Marika. No, I don't lie…and he travels with Elia." Radagon sighed, "He's fine…and with strong allies. Miquella's safe too, though I doubt you care." "He is your son, not mine." Marika shrugged with a huff.

"He's your spitting image, woman," Radagon tossed up his hands, "They are not the omens…and even then. Were we correct to expel them as we did? Morgott served your dynasty until his last breath, according to Elia. None of our and Godfrey's children deserved the superstition that carried them into the grave."

"...You, the most leal hound of the order, are preaching to me of tolerance?" Marika scoffed, "I will swallow those words when you can wrangle a maiden into your bed willingly."

"You sure as fuck can't compel a husband to stay alive for you." Radagon grimaced, "I never forced myself upon my spouse."

Marika grimaced, having little to say of their night that spawned the twins, "...It was ordained by powers higher than me. I didn't want you. I still don't want you."

"The feeling is mutual, Marika." Radagon sighed as he raked a hand through his hair, "Yet I do have something to ask of you." "Spit it out."

"Have you any connection to the Elden Ring?"

"...No. Your bride is beyond my reach. Why do you ask?" Marika cocked her head at him.

"I feel safer about the prospect of you taking over… if you wished to see Godwyn again." he confessed.

"Why." Marika stared, "Why would you suggest that to me?"

"...You miss him, no? His death sent you into a suicidal spiral." Radagon stood, breaching the distance to stare eye to eye with his counterpart.

"...I don't want your body, Radagon. I wanted freedom, and freedom was death when this world ate my child." Marika murmured,

"...Find a way to divest me of you, and I will consider that fair restitution to leave you and your bride be…I want to rest." " It's more than you deserve, but you will have it."

"Why have you suddenly decided to play the part of Samaritan, Radagon?" Marika furrowed her brows then.

"I tire of being the conqueror the world reviles. Maybe we both should attempt to change and undergo the horror of becoming something new."

Flowers bloomed underneath the withered branches of the Haligtree. The Aeonia was the most beautiful of them all, and Radagon's breath hitched at the sight of an impotent flower. This land should have been a waste, marred and toxic to all life if a scarlet bloom had flourished here. The bloom was inert and still, none of its spores and no butterflies fluttered in the air. Scarlet Rot failed to take root here…in a flower only his daughter should have created.

Radagon ran on weary feet, rushing towards the Aeonia with a pit of dread building in his stomach. What was held in the flower? He did not wish to find Malenia's corpse…but he had to understand what spawned this bloom. It was what was left of her and deserved to be seen as her last remembrance. The hammer was abandoned, and he drew closer as he pushed aside the scarlet foliage, and peered into the weeping wound of a flower.

Curled with a mane of red bleeding into the petals, lay Malenia, wingless and her skin unmarred by rot. Her body was still a severed form, legs gone and her arm missing, eyes pinched shut as a fever burned and her dreams a chaotic blight to her mind. But there she lay, breathing and still alive, despite her hibernative state, and the red scarring about her throat. Radagon froze, and immediately understood how Elia had dispatched the Valkyrie.

Malenia had been beheaded.

Wake child.

Bloom.

Let the world know of thine wondrous horror.

The Outer God of Rot had been a plague lingering on the fringes of Malenia's mind since she had been born. A red sun rose that day, and scorched her with an inheritance of poison and death. The only golden glory she held were the limbs forged by her dear brother.

Miquella, a graced soul worthy of so much more than Marika's distant watch, or the impotent promises of the Golden Order. The ageless man had been beloved…and stolen. To claim that she had never known defeat was a boisterous facade. Malenia had lost any notions of glory when her brother was plucked from the oaken womb of the Haligtree under her very nose.

No leads, no telltale signs of who would commit such a transgression. She knew it wasn't Radahn. The general was a foe, yet honorable. When her will slipped, and the warrior instinct they both held of their father clashed, it was all too easy to consume, to feast as the Aeonia bloomed. Malenia recalled little of the battle, only the frantic mutterings of Finlay, and the Knight's labors to carry her to safety.

She should have been left for the general to slay. To survive meant she would wait in perpetuity for her brother, or for another Demigod to hand her the keys to power in a foolish bid to take her rune. Consider her surprise to find not the likes of Rhykard or Ranni, but a lowly Tarnished?

Better yet, the woman dared to speak of her brother. Malenia's fury boiled, a Tarnished held little right to lay claim to her brother's work, and why had they hunted down Miquella? They had hoped to find him here, that Tarnished and the rotting girl.

A rotting girl who could bloom as brilliantly as Malenia, if pushed to save a loved one.

Short red hair, a pilfered arm that was inferior to her own, the girl screamed in outrage when she had come close to beheading the Tarnished. The Tarnished had staggered from a cruel slash to her left leg, the weakest aspect of her stance, and her slender neck would break so easily under the proper force. That woman should have been dead, the runes attained in one fell swoop of the sword.

A sword had hacked through her wing. The Tarnished lunged forward with a scream as her shortsword tore into Malenia's abdomen, pain shooting through her skin and her blood weeping intensely from the wound that refused to shut. Down a wing, and wrenching away from the pair, Malenia laboured for breath and cursed at the fading Aeonia. Red stained the girl's cheeks, and her golden eyes blazed with the glorious thirst of conquest.

"...I was a fool to think you would help us." Millicent, the blooming girl was Millicent that spoke. Malenia paled as the resemblance proved to be far from uncanny - they were flowers of the same vine, the same origin.

"What aid could you have thought to find here? Fools, the both of you." Malenia shook her head. One scarlet flower was too many. Best to weed the garden quickly than to let this girl fester and spread.

Malenia whirled at the splashing of water underfoot, feeling poisoned steel slice her throat before she could utter another word. The world spun, and she saw black as her head hit the water before dispelling into ash. Like pollen on the wind, her withering bloom's spores faded into the breeze.

Her eyes opened, a gold rimmed with red as she took her newfound sight of the world.

Malenia came too, her eyes sensitive and blurred from years of disuse. The woman winced and threw her arm over her face with a harsh groan at the discomfort that light wrought. Radagon gently rested his hand over her face then, looking away from the fire to study her in concern.

"...You were dead." He whispered, "At this rate will Radahn and Rhykard push from the soil like daisies?"

Malenia didn't laugh, couldn't with how weary her form was from sleep, "You...you were gone from the world as Marika was. Absent. What...what happened, Father?"

"Too much to tell in one night, Malenia. Just sleep well knowing Miquella is alive, and with Godwyn. He's safe."

Malenia's cheeks grew wet. She numbly felt her face, tasting salt on her tongue as she trembled. A hoarse sound tore through her lips, and she blindly reached for her father.

She was weeping.

She hadn't wept since the rot took her eyes, and she wept as a child would whilst Radagon held her tightly to his chest. Malenia tucked her face into his shoulder, loathing that she only had one arm to hold him with, and swore under her breath as another sob wracked her form.

Rumination

Ranni sat alone in her study, eyeing the same ring that had been left upon her desk to find when she returned from slaying the Fingers. It had been a terse exchange when Elia found her body, arriving not to propose, but to condemn her.

When Elia approached that night, silent and somber, Ranni blinked soft and slow at her Tarnished. The woman loomed over the witch, brows furrowed and dropping an aged brooch in her lap. The same that had adorned her throat when she was slain. Ranni stared as Elia spoke, "...You slaked off your destiny and skin that night. Who also paid the price for that ascension, Ranni. What was the price of liberation?"

The witch was silent, fists clenched as she dipped her head, Elia continued with a hiss as she looked Ranni in the eye, "Was

Godwyn deserving of death, was the world deserving of the hell Marika caused, for you to spite your father and his dynasty?"

"Thou knows nothing to speak of my family, Tarnished." Ranni grimaced, "Hath thou arrived here to slay me, to exact justice for the land and the Greater Will?"

"No." Elia sighed, her expression falling as she shook her head, "I'm no pawn, not to you nor to any god. This is farewell. Go to the stars if you wish, but your age will never dawn here, not by my hand. In the name of the help and company I found in Blaidd, I wouldn't dare lay a hand on you."

"...You would have been my lord, for what you have done to free me from destiny. Why abandon that progress over a moral

trifle?"

"I won't empower a kinslayer, or thrust the world into uncertainty simply to feel loved and secure in your arms. I am not yours, and I have no wish to be." Elia coldly retorted as she stepped away from Ranni, freezing when her hands caught her by the arm.

"Is there another who holds thine interest? If thoust should become Elden Lord, how will thou not be under Marika's heel, or yet another puppet for the Greater Will?"

"What I am willing to tolerate is immense, Ranni, but on my terms. Unhand me." She ground out in warning, "You have your family and I have my own, that is all you ever need to understand."

"A Tarnished has any flesh and blood still thriving in this world?" Ranni questioned without care or delicacy.

"No," She wrenched her arm free and strode off, "Goodbye Ranni."

Malenia held her aching throat with a wince, leaned against the base of a tree as Radagon tended to the fire. Her voice still rasped, and the sting of the blade cleaving flesh made her skin crawl whenever the memory came unbidden to her mind.

"...Try not to speak too much, if your vocal cords are still sensitive?" Radagon murmured, handing over a skewer of rabbit and pheasant meat he had been able to catch.

Malenia huffed, tearing off a piece before retorting plainly, "Then perhaps the woman shouldn't have beheaded me?"

"You entered a duel to the death, Malenia, you understood what you bit off." Radagon shook his head at her whine, "Eat, you can despise Elia better on a full stomach."

"...That is her name?" Malenia furrowed her brows, "How do you know this, Father?"

"I traveled with her…and found Miquella with her information." Radagon stared back, his expression even as he cursed himself for letting the name slip. He was in no mood to explain the mess he had made of a third marriage, or a new goddess roaming the land.

Malenia was all too clever to accept a casual dismissal.

"So, how did you find this woman, and was she toting about a rotting girl with her?" She asked between bites, brows raised and knowing she was in for a good story.

"You mean Millicent." Radagon corrected quietly, "She was doing what any other Tarnished hoped to do. Become Elden Lord… and I was the one to combat her behalf of the Greater Will."

"She lost, and yet you let her live?" Malenia frowned, "When were you ever one for mercy of the Golden Order's enemies?"

"What I did was not a mercy." Radagon shook his head, "Marika, that woman is a liability and my other half. A being of the same flesh but of a different will. She was unfit to hold the ring in the next age…and Elia was a serviceable replacement."

"And you chose to elevate a tarnished to divinity, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. I had to act on what borrowed time I had to be in a mobile body and not crucified in the Erdtree. It was desperation,

Malenia." Radagon confessed with a defeated sigh, "The woman loathes me for it."

"...She was a tool. I understand that rage, its been my lot in life since I was born." Malenia whispered, "The girl, Millicent, what became of her. If another bloom is allowed to wander, she could be the waste of another region."

"She's unbound from the god of rot, as Elia's shadow. That problem was one of the few I could solve for her… I'm hoping if you're entrusted to Miquella, he can finally find a cure for you."

"I hope so." Malenia mused, clenching her remaining hand into a fist, "I need new limbs, soon."

"I know. Give me a few days to scavenge the tree…I know Millicent fought a quartet here along its outskirts. The other women may have used prosthetics as well if they suffered advanced stages of rot." Radagon held his chin in thought, "Can I trust you to not attack Elia on sight?"

"...I will have a rematch with her," Malenia ground out, "She fights dirty when she's backed into a corner."

"I know."

Millicent grimaced as she undid Elia's bandages, the cuts over her chest were mending, but still puckered and metallic in the light. Her sister's breast plate was broken beyond use, and in sore need of a proper craftsman to conduct the repairs Radagon could have executed flawlessly. Elia glanced at the wounds she could observe, tracing her fingertips over the gold scarring with a tense exhale.

"These aren't going to fade anytime soon and Sellen will have questions." Elia grimaced. There wasn't any sense in bandaging wounds that were only cosmetically unsound. They were burning daylight as is, and Elia hurriedly tugged on her tunic.

"...Are you doing alright, in the mind if not the body?" Millicent questioned then as she reached for Elia's cheek. Her sister squeezed her eyes shut with a tense exhale, shaking her head.

"No," she tucked her head into Millicent's shoulder, bracing her arms around the smaller redhead's waist. Metal fingers gently carded through Elia's loose waves, and Millicent tried not to comment on the dampness staining her shirt.

"...He's bound to show his face eventually." Millicent murmured, "As entangled as his problems are with ours, and fellow monarch to you…"

"Please don't remind me." Elia muttered, "...I don't regret drawing a line, but I baited a senseless man at his worst. How was that helpful in the slightest?" she smacked her palm to her brow with a curse.

"...He was helpful, and kind at times. He was also cruel and inserted himself into our lives with little consideration." Millicent muttered, "I don't want him to stay if his mood continues to change like the weather, and you take the abuse of him or Miquella."

"...Miquella has been surprisingly fair tempered since that incident." Elia said, "He I don't worry for so much, Godwyn looks after him as expected, and the two dote on one another. I'm far from a priority for Miquella to rage against, and I understand why he's resentful. Radagon…I don't understand half of what continues to make him on edge and erratic as a powder keg."

"It wasn't your job to do so in the first place, in my opinion." Millicent grumbled, "Not if he didn't try to help you."

"...He did fix my leg." Elia murmured, "and is more forgiving than his children at least."

Millicent cocked her head with an incredulous look, "Do you miss him, even if you don't want him back?"

Elia nodded, "A little bit, yes."

Homecoming

Radagon lay awake, blearily staring up at the morning sky as the sun began to crest over the horizon. Malenia was still deep in slumber, the salvaged prosthetics laying near her bedroll. Of the needed limbs, Radagon found two legs in working condition, replacing their hinges and fittings from the fragments remaining with the quartet. They wouldn't last, but hopefully they could remain whole until they finished the march to Liurnia.

With luck, the trip to Raya Lucaria would be brief. He only intended to escort Malenia to Miquella, and be on his way before another brawl could ensue. Already he had a sinking suspicion Sellen was ready to bottle and jar his entrails, and cast his body into the moat. Sitting upright, Radagon studied Malenia for a lingering moment. It was unnerving to ponder what avenues kept her alive.

The Rune of Death was unbound…but still solitary as a relic. Elia wouldn't have known the process to re-integrate it, yet Godwyn's rune certainly cemented death back into her being. Death must have never claimed Malenia, not through the Erdtree or Destined Death. She was in the yoke of another creator, and her soul still existed on borrowed time by some divine prank or blessing. It was a gray area Radagon was not convinced to leave to chance, with luck Miquella would be able to sort out this mess, and root out the lingering rot in his sister.

Mercifully, her health was fair despite her hibernative state, Malenia was alert and aware. Her constitution was much as it had been before the shattering in Radagon's eyes, save for the sobering humility she carried. There was less bravado in her voice, and she spoke bluntly and candidly without fanciful diction. Particularly her morning greetings.

"Stop staring at me like a hawk, father." Malenia cracked open an eye, "Its unnerving." "Good morning to you too, Malenia." Radagon shook his head.

He rose from bed, and offered her a hand up. Malenia obliged him and rose to her feet with a drawn out yawn, "...You won't be leading us into a trap by returning to Liurnia? Your…I would not expect a warm welcome from either its Queen or anyone else beyond Miquella and Godwyn."

"We won't, but Elia's cohort seems to have the run of the academy, and there Miquella will be if he hasn't decided to disband from them."

"After the incident with Mohg, I doubt he would travel alone."

"I'm inclined to agree, and they will be pleased to see you alive and well." Radagon assured as he kissed Malenia's brow, "Don't fret over it. You will be fine."

Godwyn eyed the archway of Raya Lucaria's main entrance, and looked to Elia with raised brows, "You've taken the academy as your own?"

"Sellen is its headmistress with Rennala's absence, but I did ply the hands of a few merchants to help supply us. It's home, but it isn't mine. Soon enough there will be students and professors here to teach again," The prospect brought a smile to Elia's features.

Bygone days had been spent here in her youth from time to time. If she wasn't at her uncle's heels with a sword, she was with her father as he wrote his treatises on the constellations and harmonic cycles of the cosmos. Lofty ideas and an understanding of the primeval current that eluded her mind still.

Few places felt more like home than the observatory, where even as a child she had been happiest amongst the stars, with little understanding of the yoke they held over the world, or what lay beyond in the dark expanse of the cosmos.

Godwyn's sentiments to the Academy were far less nostalgic. This was an elusive institution, not an explicit enemy with the peace Radagon had bought them for a time, but the academy and Liurnia at large was never a land Godwyn traveled extensively. These were not his people, and his family had brought the ruin of its monarch with terrible efficiency. Thus it was strange to be here, a guest and welcomed by its functional steward. He glanced sidelong to Elia, "Rennala doesn't reside here any longer, correct?"

"As of yet, no. She had clear intentions to rejoin Ranni and wanted time away from this place. She's welcome here if she ever has the inclination to return however." Elia replied, "She's more lucid than any rumors you've heard, and she's tolerated Sellen and Millicent's presence without aggression. You're safe here under my watch."

"I don't doubt that fact." Godwyn shook his head, "It's just a marvel to reckon with how the world has changed. This place was a mire of grief for half of my family once."

"Were you close to Radagon's children beyond the twins?" Elia questioned with a brightening curiosity.

"Radahn was a brother and a friend to me…and by blood, we were family." Godwyn muttered as he held his chin in thought. That new revelation was still difficult to marry with the broader tapestry of his life. Radagon, second husband, step father and usurper to his father's seat of Elden Lord, in Godwyn's eyes. A man of the same flesh as Marika, her divested grafting that gained personhood beyond his mother's intent.

It was easier to loathe Radagon without that knowledge. The man had been an efficiently used tool as the Golden Order's leal hound, and his shit attitude made a bit more sense with the newfound context of his existence. Godwyn laid no claim to the man as family…he had the luck of being raised by Marika at her most functional and content, he realized, and there was no replacing the role his parents had been privileged to serve uninterrupted by divine intervention for so long. Radagon hadn't been given that luck, Radahn had been a man fully grown for perhaps a decade, Rhykard only a few years his junior, and Ranni a girl scarcely in her teens when the Carian Royal Family was severed.

It explained why two out of three children were as dysfunctional as they became in some aspects. Rykard, unseated as the academy began to decline into civil war, his studies no longer mediated and observed, Ranni became a free floating agent to pursue any arcane craft under the sun to exploit. Godwin grimaced, a robbed childhood and foundation were unfortunate hands to be dealt, and he had no part to play in fixing them, how could he?

Godwyn and Radahn were every bit the warriors their fathers were…and the latter had rejected the hypocritical actions of his father to find strength and stability in the image of Godfrey. It had been an unexpected respite to have a companion, a brother in arms who didn't spurn Godfrey as a lowly tarnished who fell from grace.

"...Yes, he was my brother as much as Miquella. I lament that he died to his own family," Godwyn shook his head at the irony, "Another brother slain by his sister."

Sellen's hands were gentle as they held Elia's face, a sharp contrast to her biting tone, "That man will lose his hands the next time he touches you." The sorceress' blood boiled at the scarring over Elia's sternum and ribs, her pupil shaking her head.

"It was a mutual display of idiocy, Sellen," Elia held her hand to her face with a grimace.

"...At least we won't suffer his company for a while." Sellen eyed the healing marks, "Or is his dismissal to last in perpetuity?"

"No need to get your hopes up," Elia shook her head as she tugged on her tunic, "...However long this dynamic lasts, there will be a time he needs something from me, or vice versa. I'm not too proud to admit we needed the other's help in just the span of a few weeks together."

"...Where is he now, and do you expect him to rear his head soon?" Sellen crossed her arms, peering at Elia with raised brows.

"He could be in Leyndell for all I know…he could be traveling, surveying the land with his own eyes. Sooner or later, he will be in Liurnia to see Ranni. The timing depends on his courage to see Rennala and her again." Elia muttered, uneasy with a looming variable.

"...Don't pick another fight with him, not alone." Sellen sighed, "I don't want you broken on an operating table…not with what that hammer can do to a body."

"I won't, hopefully I never fight him a third time." Elia whispered.

Reunion

Liurnia, a land Malenia had never dared to conquer nor needed to. The denizens living by the grace of the moon and stars were a scattered sort by the time she had been born, the country a broken series of fiefdoms her father brought to heel to save the life of his first wife. Those had been the first campaigns Radagon had been entrusted with, when she and Miquella were still small, before her eyes were rotted.

Marika had been a distant mother, and in Radagon's absence, there had been Godwyn. Malenia would never voice the fear she held for Marika's somber and scathing demeanour, a facade broken only by her firstborn's calming company. Her father had been reluctant to leave them as well…and the arguments leading up to his campaign were damning.

"The Carian family is defunct, absorbed into your own or under arrest in the academy itself." Radagon informed quietly, "Why press for Rennala's execution?"

"She is still royal, and with a rune." Marika coldly retorted, "You set the stage for this mess when you left her alive, and planted three children in her like a rutting dog. Your offspring are fortunate to be alive in spite of what you did."

Radagon loomed over her desk, hands braced over the oaken surface as he glowered at the golden woman, "What will it take to remind you, I was not the one to drive away your husband, Marika. Godfrey was a good man, and someone who will be dearly missed. My children did nothing to you."

"They did everything. You have the same ability to spawn a divine lineage, and the Greater Will understood that potential with ruthless efficiency. This never would have happened if Rennala had been subjugated or killed," Marika raked her hands through her hair, gold eyes wide as saucers as she clenched her jaw, "Why did you do it? It was a simple task…"

"...You who fell for Godfrey in your youth have the gall to ask why I wouldn't want the same warmth for myself?" Radagon grimaced, reaching to grip Marika's chin, "I am your flesh, I have the same wants and passions as you held once-" her palm stung as it slapped his cheek.

"You are a grafting that I foolishly let run wild for too long." She jerked away from her bloodstained half, grimacing at the sight of his spawnling.

Malenia, a girl that had taken three days to birthe, and nearly bled Marika dry in the process, "Get out, and ready your soldiers. I want Liurnia brought to heel. If you can accomplish it without slaking yourself between the lunar queen's legs, I'll be impressed." There was little love lost when Marika was imprisoned, and Malenia prayed the goddess remained dormant.

Raya Lucaria lingered in the distance, and Malenia shook away her memories as she rolled her shoulder. Miquella was only a few hours away, and Tarnished was long overdue for a proper duel. She wouldn't be defeated by a cheap woman twice.

Fia found a strange ease of routine in Raya Lucaria. Not unlike the RoundTable Hold, she staked out a bedchamber for herself in the astral wing of the complex. The divergence was the abundance of company she was mired in. Godwyn seemed content to spend his isle hours with her when Miquella was unavailable or he wasn't in the sparring grounds with Elia and Millicent.

It was a relief really that her two companions seemed to get on well. Godwyn had seen what he had seen, and took little issue. Fia cast a sidelong glance to the man who sat with her on the chaise, his nose in a book as he attempted to understand why Elia kept a small library on star maps and cosmic myths alone in her personal collection. The patterns and movements were swimming in his mind with little tangibility.

"I don't understand how she grasps this material enough to have a fixation with it." Godwyn muttered, "Do you?"

Fia shook her head, "Her father taught here once, she seems as entangled with the stars as the Carian Royal family from what she has told me."

"Odd," He closed the tome and fixed his attention to Fia, "...I will confess, I do intend to see Ranni, even if it means braving

Rennala."

Fia tensed, "You don't mean to harm her, I hope?"

"I enjoy my second lease on life a bit much to have Radagon and Rennala united as a front to slay me. No, I only want to speak…there's much of my step siblings and their upbringing I neglected to properly look into. You understand the loose nature of Rannala's divorce and Radagon marrying my mother, yes?"

The deathbed companion nodded, wringing her wrists as she studied the dusk eyed prince, "I know the story, is that why we accompanied Elia to Liurnia?"

"I wouldn't have stopped you from following your friend, my Lady." he reminded gently, "but I did come to Liurnia with a goal in mind, just with more pleasant company than I imagined…it's baffling to imagine this place was Radahn's childhood stomping ground - he never could have walked these halls when fully grown."

"...you seem as if you two were close, as much as you are with Miquella?" Fia questioned him then.

"Miquella was my brother in academics, and Radahn my brother in arms, yes. I miss him dearly." Godwyn sighed, "When Ranni is dealt with, I think I will take Elia up on the prospect of accompanying her to survey Caelid. I need to see what's left of him." Fia leaned against Godwyn's side, "May I hold you a while?"

His grief was a quietly worn garment, tucked beneath armour and a pleasant facade, and Fia could feel it when she touched him.

Godwyn wordlessly wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close with a sombre nod, "Thank you, Fia."

That night, Raya Lucaria held its first astronomy lesson in centuries. The students were a range of ages, some skirting their upper teens, a few adults and older folk interspersed. Many of them were Tarnished, scattered after the assault on the round table, and finding shelter elsewhere in the land. All who approached held some origin in the academy prior to their graceless exile or a budding talent for glintstone sorcery, some were even scouted by Sellen herself.

The gathering was less so a lesson, but an induction to their stay at the academy and to familiarise themselves with their cohort. However, Sellen would be remiss to not allow them a chance to observe a lost wonder of Carian engineering. The telescope of the observatory was finally repaired in its entirety, and through its lens one could finally witness the dancing stars of the cosmos.

Sellen cast a glance over her students, and then to the lingering gaggle of observers. As expected, Elia had wanted to witness the lesson. Miquella and Godwyn were there for academic interest alone, curiosity clear in the brothers' gazes and continued mutterings of conversation.

Miquella tugged on Elia's sleeve to catch her attention, "How is it balanced and aligned - runic engravings or a gravitational array. Godwyn thinks it's the latter, I don't think it's so simple with how complex the machine appears."

"Both." Elia whispered as she stooped down, pointing to the silver gyroscopes hovering around the structure, "Those serve as counterbalances and are the orbital points for the structure and maintaining the alignment of its internal mirrors as well. The room itself has gravitational arrays to dampen the weight of the structure and its occupants. If activated properly, we could all be floating in here."

Miquella's eyes shined, "You have to show us when the lesson is finished."

Elia cocked her head to the side then, "I never thought you had an interest in the stars."

"I may not worship the cosmos, but the whole of creation is a wondrous thing we are only a fraction of," Miquella reminded,

"...How do you know this room's structure down to its foundations?"

"I spent my childhood here, Miquella. My father helped engineer the telescope you see." Elia smiled, growing quiet as Sellen brought up the first volunteers to peer through the scope. Miquella returned his attention to Godwyn, perplexed by the childlike wonder the woman still seemed to possess for this place.

Elia was a woman of her word.

Purple light rippled through the observatory as she activated the arrays from where she stood at its epicentre. Miquella was reminded then, this woman wasn't ignorant of the arcane, and studied it as well as the sword as she channelled the lunar rays spilling through the dome's opening, and began to rise.

The floor beneath Miquella's feet slipped from him, and the boy felt as weightless as he should in water. Godwyn's arms flailed out as the man's breath hitched, caught in a sumersault motion as he called over to Elia, "How do you orient yourself in this?"

"Keep your arms in and wait until you can latch onto a wall, then gently kick - use too much force and you'll smack into something!" She called over, peering up at the constellations overhead as she floated on her back. Miquella kept his knees curled in, cautious and adrift as he peered up to the drifting constellations and Elia.

"...Your father would do this with you?" He asked, reminded of how Radagon would read with him or spend hours forging devices to bring his designs to life. There was a special intimacy in the trappings of childhood, when the world was smaller and safer in the arms of a parent.

"He would, many nights were spent here learning how the stars danced and took shape." she murmured, her arms tightly crossed then.

Godwyn observed her for a long moment, "...Was it solely your father that raised you? You've never made mention of a mother or siblings?"

Elia turned away from the stars, "I don't have a mother, not as far as I remember. It was my fathers since they courted and married…and my uncle. It wasn't a large family, but we were content and safe despite the shifting politics of the time."

Miquella paused, "...You weren't lacking anything without a mother in your life?" a loaded question, and the boy grimaced at the void Marika had left. Godwyn sent him a warning look, that was a question not lightly asked.

"No. I was happy and never neglected from what I could discern… What was Marika like for you two?" Elia tentatively asked, if they were going to broach this subject with her, it was only fair to understand their situation as well.

"Those are vastly different experiences." Godwyn interjected with a tight sigh.

"She loathed us." Miquella admitted grimly, "Malenia and I might as well have been born of omen stock."

Elia drifted over to Miquella, "...Because of your curses, was that it?"

"Multiple reasons, but that contributed greatly to her disdain." Miquella seemed to curl in tighter upon himself, "Father shouldered her blame for replacing Godfrey, but he couldn't take all of her ire away."

Godwyn loosely tried to tug Miquella into an embrace, yet the boy shook him off, "I don't need to be coddled, we all know what

Marika was by the end."

Elia didn't dare breathe a word, which Godwyn was grateful for when he spoke, "A troubled woman who finally hit the brink, and took out years of undue anger on her children rather than doing something constructive with her situation." "She was a monster." Miquella whispered.

"...you and Malenia never deserved to bear the blame of her crumbling marriage." Elia murmured, "Forgiveness is overblown, but understanding that you are not what ruined her happiness is deeply important."

Miquella glanced sidelong to Elia, "...Father raised us to keep our pride close, I know I am not responsible for Marika's happiness. I only wish she had been a present mother."

"Then Radagon served his role to the fullest." Elia murmured, "...I can sympathise wanting something to fill a void. I was born into the world, but I know my mother expired quickly and little else… I don't know her favourite fruits, songs, if she looked to the stars with adoration or had other pursuits."

"...Marika is as much an empty expanse of questions. I never committed her personal wants or passions to memory, I only kept my distance." Miquella murmured, staring at Elia with a semblance of understanding, "We were served well by our fathers

despite it all."

The silence between them was amiable, a time that would have been spent in reflection if a furious knock hadn't resounded through the room from its silver doors. An incantation was uttered by Elia, and gently the gravity of the array tugged them back to the floor.

Malenia paced outside the doors on creaking joints, and Radagon counted the minutes he had until Sellen discovered them with a hex on her lips. His heart raced as he bit his knuckles, dreading who he would find there.

Millicent hadn't been ecstatic to see him on the Academy grounds, and was primed to drive him out herself if not for the shock and awe of seeing Malenia at his side when she confronted him at the gatehouse.

"Need I even explain why I need to see Miquella?" Radagon deadpanned. Malenia eyed Millicent's borrowed limbs hawkishly, to which the shadow glared back.

"No. I don't want her in these halls armed, not until Elia's seen her." Millicent outstretched a hand expectantly. Malenia side eyed her father with raised brows, "Hand it over, we aren't here to cause more bloodshed." Radagon sighed.

Malenia glowered, "I want my arm and leg back, girl."

"I don't want them on my body any more than I wanted to bloom." Millicent replied evenly, "...We can ask miquella to swap out the limbs, yes?"

"Very well." Malenia nodded at the timely solution, "Where is my brother?"

"...With Elia." Millicent muttered, "In the observatory situated in the Astral Wing…"

Malenia strode forward as she tossed her sword to the shadow, "Don't lose that, it's worth more than your weight in gold." Millicent fumbled to catch the katana with a wheeze, never having dreamed of holding the blade of Malenia, and had no desire to be responsible for it.

Radagon moved to follow his daughter, and Millicent called out after him, "Don't overstay your welcome, Elden Lord." "I won't." Radagon muttered.

That terse exchange could have gone worse, and he crossed his arms as they awaited Miquella.

Steel hinges groaned as Godwyn tugged open the heavy doors with Elia, Miquella ventured out with an indignant expression to have been interrupted. His eyes passed over worn threadbare clothes until he saw that familiar mane of red, and eyes he hadn't seen since Malenia's adolescence.

His sister stood before him, and the boy was speechless as he stood in awe. Tentatively, Malenia knelt and outstretched a hand to him, murmuring, "...Do you still remember me, Miquella?"

Miquella rushed forward, the twins tightly embraced as Godwyn kept near Elia, his gaze fixed on their second guest, Radagon.

The prince murmured, "Do you want to slip away while you can?"

Elia shook her head and gently patted his arm, "Its fine… a reunion was going to occur sooner or later Thank you."

Godwyn nodded, still lingering as the twins strained to keep their composure, and Radagon tentatively stole a glance from them towards Elia. Blue and green eyes met gold, and the woman strode over him, "...We have things to discuss?" she waved to Malenia in passing, brows furrowed in contemplation.

"We have many things to talk over," Radagon nodded and looked to Godwyn, "...Is he accompanying us?"

"No, this is a conversation I would rather have alone with you." Elia murmured, leading him back towards her quarters.

When the door shut, Radagon braced himself for shouting, a slap, anything that was routine when Marika pulled him behind closed doors. Elia was alarmingly quiet as she sat, before asking, "Do we know how Malenia survived?"

"...The aeonia bloomed under the Haligtree, where you must have battled her. She was inside the flower with mending wounds… and even had her eyes returned. Perhaps her head had to regenerate, eyes and all, hence her newfound sight." Radagon murmured.

"Well…it's miraculous, but Miquella needs every family member he still has." She admitted, "I'm glad you found her." "She is in want of a rematch, when she's fit for combat."

"As expected," Elia sighed, "...but for one child of yours to be back from the dead, that begs a few questions."

"...I want to see Caelid, where you fought Radahn." Radagon murmured, "I understand you want your distance, will you consi-" "I can't keep you from honouring your son. Godwyn is accompanying us however." Elia warned.

Radagon's expression soured immediately, "Why?"

"He asked. Radahn was his brother." Elia crossed her arms, "Can you keep the peace with him, or will you travel alone?"

Radagon sent her a tired look, "I choose peace, with both of you."

Elia nodded, "...You likely passed through the gatehouse town. The inn is open and should have room and board. Tell them the costs are on me."

Ah, he was still squarely in exile from her home, "Understood…is there anything else you wished to discuss?"

"...I owe you an apology for what I said in our battle." She wrung her wrists, "The world and your family wouldn't be apathetic or uncaring if something had become of you. I shouldn't have said otherwise or baited you into a battle under duress."

Radagon stared, unsure of what to say. Marika did not apologise to him. Rennala and him never had disputes that became physical outside of war. He anticipated never speaking of the fight again, or always being condemned for his aggression.

"...If I don't forgive those words, will you lash out?" Radagon questioned, to which Elia shook her head, "That battle isn't behind us yet. You were callus, and I was cruel to you. All the same, I wish I hadn't taken up the hammer to fight." "If we don't forgive one another, could we be in agreement to not duel again?" Elia asked.

"I can agree to that," Radagon extended a hand to her then.

Elia shook it with an audible sigh in relief, "Then we have an accord."

The Rising Son of Caelid

Radahn exhaled, his skin feverish and new as he lay sprawled under the red sky. By a miracle or mad stroke of luck, he still breathed, and grace beckoned him to wake once more in the land of the living. He hadn't feared death, every battle was a dance between victory or a grave that had given him purpose and a passion to reforge himself.

Those swords finally set him free from the yoke of the rot when they gouged his throat, a gruesome but needed measure at the hands of a Tarnished. Why did he live, with more clarity of the mind than he held in centuries? He lacked his armour, and felt smaller than he should be, diminished and frailer than he was at his prime. As gold eyes surveyed the infested land, he froze, catching sight of his dual blades scattered across the sand.

They dwarfed him by spades, and the corpse of his horse was half buried in the sands and the skeletal frame was bleached under the sun. He could have fit within the ribcage of that steed, and Radahn felt sick at that realization. He sucked in a hissing breath through sharp teeth, and gripped a rusting blade from the hands of a long dead soldier as he stalked forward. He knew not of where to go, or if any help was to be found, but he would fight his way through this hell, and find Malenia for a proper rematch.

With luck, he would cross swords with the Tarnished once more in fair combat, sane and of able body than a hysteric beast primed to kill without grace or reason.

Miquella eyed the golden rune in his hands with a contemplative furrow of his brow, "...Its a strong evocation of order, but without direction by its lonesome." he looked up to Elia, "What are you thinking to do with it."

"...Unalloyed gold is a strong conduit…and Gold Mask to what I could surmise envisioned order bereft of the will of gods, a firmament that was self sustaining and incorruptible," Elia said, "...I think it would be better served in your hands, to amplify your spells and metallurgy."

"A lesser ring," Miquella murmured, "That would be my vision, one that could grant salvation from the curse of rot, disease, and flame."

"...and your own, the be unaging."

"My burden is hardly so pressing," Miquella shook his head, clutching the rune closely, "I need a thorough mapping of Caelid, the worst swamps and growths that need to be isolated and purged by fire."

Elia dared to look hopeful, "Do you believe you can put that rune to good use, if Radagon can forge it with your gold?"

"I do, but I need time and Malenia is my priority to cure." The boy wrung his wrists, "Her rot is only dormant, not yet purged."

Elia tentatively reached forward to hold his shoulder, and Miquella looked at her quizzically, "I was of the same urgency and mind to cure Millicent when she was ill. Your sister is rightly your priority."

Miquella nodded, and turned back to his desk, "...Thank you for the rune, Elia."

"This will delay the plans I had to confront Ranni," Godwyn sighed as he poured over the maps Elia had laid out. the prince crossed his arms as he grimaced at the pinned locations Elia had reported as epicentres of the rot. So many of the aeonia's spores had spread, ruining a once fertile region into a wasteland.

"...I can make this trip with Radagon and Millicent alone if need be." Elia countered, "The extra hands are helpful however."

"No…I want to see where my brother met his end, before I have any words to exchange with Malenia." Godwyn muttered, "Nor am I inclined to leave you alone with him yet."

"Don't feel as if you need to be my keeper, I can handle him."

"Fia would have my head and his if anything happened to you." Godwyn deadpanned, "I enjoy being in her good graces and knowing you aren't liable to be beaten to a pulp again."

"How practical of you," Elia snorted, "And I thought it was out of mutual fondness that we worked together."

"Oh it is, I'm just terribly conscious of Fia's affection in the grand scheme of things." Godwyn flashed her a shit eating grin. "I have a feeling it's more than me that delays your plans to see Ranni." Elia's smile turned coy, "Has she embraced you yet?" "...Yes." he admitted then, his voice quiet.

"Say no more, my friend." Elia grinned as Godwyn rolled his eyes, " You are a menace Elia.

"This won't be a short excursion unless you plan to devise a portal." He mused, glaring at the offending map that told of death, infection, and a terrible time ahead of them.

"A waste of resources and liable to ream us into pieces if the runes are improperly etched. We're going on horseback." Elia affirmed.

"Then we have a week together on the road simply to make it to Caelid, surveying the region will take weeks on its own."

Godwyn muttered, "I'd wager a month and a half is the shortest time frame."

"We have that time, Miquella is safe here and Sellen is far from helpless." Elia reminded him, "You'll need a horse."

"We all do. Granted, only a draft horse would be fitting for Radagon's stature." Godwyn scratched his chin in thought. Thus began the logistical nightmare of an expedition into the unknown.

Millicent was pleased to have her old prosthesis back. It wasn't the artful limb Malenia held, but it was her own and it had served her well.

Miquella watched her stand and roll her shoulder, "Good, your mobility isn't dampened…hmn. The exterior plating is shoddy, something to fix when you return," the boy mused.

"Is it that much of a concern?" Millicent cocked her head at the notion.

"You are the right hand of a goddess, yes it matters." Miquella deadpanned, "Malenia earned her title by equal parts skill and elegance."

Millicent stared back, hair a mess, in an ill fitting tunic a size too large for her frame, "I'm not aspiring to replicate her image."

"Clearly not." Miquella shooed her away, "Go on, you're all done and working."

The stars were out of sorts tonight. Shooting stars lulled and staggered, the moon should have been full. A waxing crescent moon was shaved to a sliver, and Ranni lowered her scope with a haunted look in her eye.

Few could ever claim to command the stars…and Elia had done her a service in freeing them from the hold of General Radahn. Why did they stutter and falter, uncertain and anxious in their motions, "Mother, I need thine eyes to confirm what I have seen, please?" Ranni called over to Rennala, the woman peering up from her book.

"...Sweetling, what did thou see?" Rennala took the offered scope, and surveyed the night sky with patient diligence. Slowly, as she panned over one constellation to the next, Rennala's expression turned grim, "...Elia slew my sons, did she not?" "Y-Yes, she did, she should have…" Ranni whispered.

"...Pack thine things, Ranni, we need to find her." Rennala collapsed the scope with a newfound sense of urgency, turning on her heel with a soft sigh. Her son may very well be alive, and choke the stars in his renewed gravity.

Rennala prayed he would not be her foe, she couldn't bury her children.

Radagon eyed the russet horse penned in the stables, "I can walk, I did for most of my war campaigns."

"Take the horse and smile," Godwyn crossed his arms, "Elia wanted us all ready for this trip, thus warranting a steed that can accommodate your height."

"She put you up to this then." Radagon shook his head, "At least I know whom to thank."

"Fuck you, I had to haggle with three separate merchants to find a good steed." Godwyn scowled at the Elden Lord, to which Radagon frowned.

"Who paid for it?" The redhead retorted, and Godwyn looked aside with a grimace, "You're spoiled at times by her."

"I welcome the change of pace," Radagon leaned over to peer at the steed, and thumbed at his own braid, the horse wasn't too different with its roan coat. Mercifully it didn't have the same penchant for eating braids as Torrent did, and rather just nosed at

Radagon's arm with a huff, demanding his attention, "When do we leave, Godwyn?"

"The day after tomorrow, at dawn." he replied evenly, "...You like the gift?"

"I do, it was considerate."

Embrace

True to Elia's word, there was a functional inn within the budding town that grew around the gate house.

Its steward was a curious man, apparently another associate of Elia's who had been amenable to overseeing the halfway house in exchange for room and board, as evidenced by the energy circulating through the inn's sole tower. Imperceptible to the eye, but charged like static, it was clearly the home of a mage. Another tell was the door swinging wide before Radagon had even been given the chance to reach for the handle.

Ducking inside, and wincing as his brow hit the brim of a lantern, Radagon's attention turned to the chuckling man who sat in the great room, near a smoldering hearth and a book in his lap. An unmanned desk greeted the door, stocked with a few wares and keys to dole out. Understandably at this hour, the innkeeper chose to spend his night by the fire, Radagon cleared his throat then to break the silence, "...Elia relayed me to you for lodging?"

The man tipped back his hat, humming in contemplation, "The name's Rogier, and you, sir?"

"...Radagon." he muttered, to which the sorcerer winced in recognition. Raya Lucaria was a growing but tight knit grapevine, and Sellen had many words to share.

"If you're here on Elia's goodwill, take a key and settle in," Rogier waved him to the desk.

"Thank you," Radagon swiped a bronze key and wasted no time dithering about, until Rogier called over.

"...You're back sooner than Sellen expected." Rogier informed, "Are you back in our Tarnished's good graces?"

Radagon cursed under his breath, "Does that woman have nothing better to do than gossip or complain of my presence?"

"Sellen's a productive lady and you're an easy outlet for her frustration, it is what it is unfortunately," Rogier shrugged, "You're back though?"

He sighed and levelled a tired look to Rogier, "Yes, though I doubt we've fully made amends if I'm sleeping here and not with her."

Ah. Perhaps he shouldn't have let slip-

Rogier raked his eyes over Radagon from head to toe, "...Brave woman."

Radagon stormed out without another word, lest this discussion slip further into depravity. Thus went his first night in the Gatehouse Village, and stars help him, he should have simply camped in the wilderness than let the merchant needle him for details in the days that ensued.

Was Rogier bad company, or even particularly rude? No. Yet cohabitating with the man for days made Radagon a terribly early riser to be out of the inn after breakfast and minimal conversation. That was the danger of conversation with an amicable man, details slipped out and Radagon had too many muddled thoughts to address regarding Elia at the moment.

One conversation over dinner had been all too enlightening.

The evening fare that night was a stew of miscellaneous meat and potatoes, simple and hearty, and telling of what serviceable skill Rogier had in the kitchen. A staple of his schedule that Radagon hadn't managed to weasel out of were his morning and evening meals spent in the great room with the man.

By evening Radagon was all but ushered out by Godwyn or Sellen from the academy, negating any opportunity for a meal with the residents that favoured him unless they cared to dine in the village. Thus, he took what he got with his host, and murmured, "...Thank you for your hospitality these past few nights, even if I'm not much company." Radagon was far from an ungrateful wretch when kindness was offered.

Rogier perked up at the words of his usually silent guest, "Your welcome, is the stew any good?" "It is," Radagon nodded, stiffly sipping his cider.

"If you don't mind me asking, what would you royals eat in Leyndell in its golden age?" Rogier asked, resting his cheek in his hand.

"...I spent a far portion of my life on a warfront, rations and simple fare are my norm. As to Marika's preferences, she favoured smoked meats and spiced wines, she had boar at least once a week, likely hunted by Godfrey when he was still her consort."

"Decadent tastes for a decadent woman," Rogier chuckled, "You though, do you prefer anything? Wilder game, savoury spices, what do you like when you can be indulgent."

"Crab." Radagon said, offering no further explanation.

"Eh, you like fish and seafood?" Rogier cocked his head, "I never would have guessed with how inland Leyndell is, importing would be a hassle, but possible if you can pay."

Radagon shrugged, "Just crab. Elia offered and I enjoyed it, that's all." "She doesn't share her food much," Rogier quietly informed.

Radagon was silent, staring back at the mage blankly. He gathered his plate and rose from the table, "Well, she does with me."

It was odd to see Elia in silver, Radagon noted that morning.

He arrived early at the stables, keen to be ready to depart on time with the rest of Elia's companions. Godwyn had yet to appear, and Millicent was taking stock of their provisions in the cart they'd be pulling along with them. The mail was polished and shining like a skin of scales, a sharp contrast from the black-blue lacquer of her usual armour set.

Likely her armour is still damaged, Radagon grimaced at the realisation, and surveyed the woman carefully before he spoke, "Why didn't you have me mend your breastplate."

Elia flinched as she looked up from Torrent, adjusting his saddle and peering up to Radagon with a tight sigh, "...I wasn't going to impose."

"You have permission to impose," he deadpanned, "Is any amour superior to your family's relic?"

"...Few are." she admitted, averting her gaze, "Miquella had his hands full repairing Malenia's limbs, I could wait."

"Allow me to fix it, if not now, then when we return." Radagon sighed, "It does you a disservice and a hazard if you use inferior equipment."

"I didn't think you were of the mind to maintain it this diligently," she countered.

"Even when I thought I had a half feral woman on my hands in Leyndell, I wasn't going to leave you wanting," Radagon pointedly peered at her from across Torrent's saddle. Red stained her cheeks for a moment when her head shot up to look at him as if he'd sprouted a second head before his words registered properly.

"A-Ah, very fair." She nodded, "When we return, yes, I'd like it fixed."

Radagon nodded, "Consider it done."

There was plenty to addle Elia's mind that morning. Before Radagon had sent her mind into the gutter, she found herself in a sobering encounter with Malenia. The Valkyrie lingered in the corridor outside Elia's quarters, arms crossed and her catlike eyes narrowed. A look directly taken from Radagon as she spoke, "Tarnished. A word, if you would?"

Elia stood in the doorway, bleary eyed, hair a mess, and in her robe. She nudged the door open and beckoned Malenia inside, "Get in, I have the feeling I should be sitting for this."

Malenia blinked, ambling after Elia into her quarters, "...Were you expecting me-"

"The woman I decapitated entered my home, yes there was a conversation bound to happen about that." Elia sat herself on the chaise, "Now, what do you want?"

Stiffening at her promptness, Malenia continued to stand, "...I want a rematch, you fought lower than a vagabond urchin on the streets." Those pompous dulcet tones rolled off of Elia as water rolled off a duck's back, the Tarnished nodding along.

"Your rematch will have to wait." Elia sipped her water with a tired sigh, "Traveling to Caelid with fresh wounds would be foolish, with you here, I have questions about your battle with Radahn."

Malenia shook her head, "It will not, honor demands we settle this-"

"Honor is a flimsy notion to justify your urge to settle a score, Malenia. I won't indulge you today, but I do owe you a fight." Elia ground out, "...I'm more concerned with understanding why the Aeonia bloomed, you're many things, but you aren't a cruel despot and were known for your honor as a knight under Miquella."

"..Therein laid the problem. My brother was gone whilst chaos swallowed the continent. I could unify the divided factions and oust Radahn, or scour the land it burned for Miquella." Malenia scowled, "Do you think I am a brute for having taken up arms?"

"No," Elia interjected, "I think you were frenzied, alone, and afraid. I understand why you fought, but the bloom. Radahn was an obstacle, but why did you end it in a bloody stalemate rather than retreat?"

"If I laid down my arms, my rune would have been forfeit." Malenia held her brow with a tired exhale, "I had no choice, do you not understand? The world could burn for all I care if my brother perished." "And you understand now why I beheaded you." Elia replied evenly.

"...That girl is your sister?" Malenia squinted, spotting nothing of a resemblance from Millicent's pale skin to Elia's darker olive tones, red hair clashing sharply from Elia's plainer brown.

"Not a sister by blood, but a sister in arms." Elia murmured quietly. Malenia took a seat then, and pressed her for details.

"How does a vagabond Tarnished find a rotting valkyrie?" Malenia asked.

"By chance, and I got her away from Gowry as quick as I could." Elia muttered and Malenia visibly flinched at the name, "I have a name as well. Call me Elia or don't refer to me at all, thank you kindly. I take it you knew Gowry at one point?

"A monstrous, vile lunatic I never should have…" Malenia shook her head, "What happened to him, does he still live?"

Elia sighed, "Yes, I never revisited him once I found Millicent a prosthetic and convinced her to let me accompany her to the

Haligtree."

Malenia gripped the armrests of her chair hard enough to make the wood creak, "Kill him. Please." "...Did he harm you?" Elia murmured.

Malenia grimaced, "By deception and the sin of worshiping my rot."

"...Gowry means nothing to me, and Millicent has always been fearful of him. I'll handle it." Elia rubbed her face with a groan, having far too much on her mind this early in the morning.

Godwyn found the gardens to be terribly lovely in the cool embrace of the winter morning. Frost clung to the leaves of dormant bushes, and a few stubborn blue blooms managed to persevere in the early days of winter. Fia admired them, as she did any stubborn thing doomed to die that clawed for another ounce of time in its life. His thumb brushed against the withering petal, its fringe decaying into dust under his touch, pondering if she was as fond of him as these blooms.

He spotted her by her dark cowl first, drawn back to bare her pale locks and delicate face as she enjoyed the quiet sanctuary she had found for herself. Godwyn was reluctant to leave her, yet had to trust in the strength of Malenia and Miquella to look after her here. Credit had to be given to Sellen and Elia as well.

The Academy was in fair condition, its wards restored, and fortifications repaired. It would repel an invading force for months if needed. Rennala had not been of the mind or body fit to steward the Academy through the war of the shattering, whilst far from fully restored, it was a home and budding institution that could once again flourish. Godwyn respected that existence, as yet another rehabilitated relic of a bygone age, given a new lease on life by his Lady.

"...Fia?" He finally spoke up in his approach, those blue eyes brightening at the sight of him.

"Yes? She beckoned him closer, holding a few stray flowers in her hands, sprigs of lavender and a few curling roses bound in a bouquet, "You slept well I hope?"

"As well as one can, knowing they're marching into a wasteland…will you fare well on your own here?" Godwyn inquired.

"Loneliness is a thing I'm accustomed to Godwyn. I just wish for you to have a safe journey ahead of you. My place is not on the battlefield, I'm afraid." Fia admitted sheepishly.

"I wouldn't thrust you into that setting any sooner than necessary, you're safer here than in Caelid." Godwyn murmured, "...I'll admit, I hoped to embrace you again, before I left."

Fia's smile was a gentle thing, "You need only ask, my embraces are a gift rarely taken."

Godwyn draped his arms over her waist, drawing her close as he rested his chin atop her head, "...I find myself growing terribly fond of you." he spoke softly against her hair, and his breath hitched as her embrace tightened.

"Not many hold my affection, Godwyn." Fia confessed softly, "You are one such rarity."

"I hope I never lose it, my lady." he kissed her cheek then, and stole away those precious minutes they had left in the quiet morning they shared.

On The Road to Hell

They were on the road again, a quartet consisting of a dead Prince, a Goddess, a Valkyrie, and a King. More chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the long stretches of silence that marked Radagon's first weeks traveling with just Elia. It perplexed him however that Godwyn had managed to get the girls into avid conversation with such ease.

"The age of the Erdtree truly didn't take root as an unshakeable institution until we brokered a peace with the dragons, once favoured by the Greater Will prior to Marika's reign," Godwyn spoke, somehow having taken the conversation towards an informal historical recap. Radagon was silent, his grasp on history was only as concrete as his lived experiences in the land between, and what he had studied of Liurnia's history in his time as prince-consort to Rennala.

Elia peered in open interest, "...You played a role in that chapter of cementing Marika's dynasty, when you established a brotherhood with the Lich Dragon."

Godwyn faltered, "...Fortisaxx? That's correct…yet he wasn't an entity of death before I perished…"

Elia grimaced, "...I fought something of that nature in Fia's nightmare, before she entered her long slumber to revive you.

Scattered accounts told of him trying to lay you to rest alongside Miquella when your corpse became a source of corruption." Godwyn grimaced, "Do you know what became of him?"

Elia gently shook her head, "I don't… he was a close companion?"

Godwyn nodded with a quiet sigh, "Immeasurably so. He was family."

Radagon interjected then, "Was he your shadow?"

The silence that ensued was palpable, and Godwyn stared the man down with his grip on the reins tightening, "Don't dance around the point, Radagon. You know the answer to that question if you had the mind to voice it."

"I'm not omniscient. Yet it does shed light onto why he would have become corrupted and mad in your death, even beyond exposure to your corpse's then toxic nature and source of Death." Radagon corrected, "You claim Fortisaxx was a Lichdragon,

Elia?"

She nodded, "It was unlike the beast in Farum Azula. Sickly and spewing black flame, he was fitting to be found in a nightmare."

"...Placidusax." Godwyn informed, "That is who you fought. My father's predecessor and consort to the god Marika replaced."

"Your brotherhood with Fortisaxx was more than a peace, you were bridging a rift between two species pitted against one another." Radagon said, "...It's gruesomely apparent why you were targeted as one of Marika's few peacemakers."

The Prince of Death shook his head, "The price of being the golden son, I suppose. I only hope he survived in some fashion, if fate is miraculous enough to allow even Malenia to survive."

"The odds may be in our favour for once." Radagon nodded in agreement, daring to be optimistic for the boy.

Their encampment was situated near the shore of Liurnia's lake, a fire already made as tents were erected, the sisters' sharing one and Godwyn and Radagon to their separate accommodations.

There was a small luxury of not needing to hunt for their meal, pulling instead from the rations stowed away in their cart. Radagon's horse had been tasked with the role of courier, the hardiest one of the quartet versus the smaller steeds built far more for speed. For the moment, they grazed the tall grasses in the nearby field whilst Godwyn and Elia were tasked with cooking duty tonight. While frost clung to grass in the early mornings, the first snowfall of winter hadn't yet arrived, and skies of overcast gray were a looming warning throughout the afternoon.

Radagon was simply grateful to not be spilling his entrails and personal details to Rogier for yet another night, watching his companions now and then as they went about their evening. Elia seemed particularly contemplative as she approached him, gently tugging on his sleeve as she mouthed, 'Follow me.'

Radagon let her tug him along as he eyed Elia in concern. What did she need to pull him aside for?

His hand caught her wrist when they were in the thicker copse of trees, and he loomed with a single question, "What do you need to discuss that cannot be said in camp?"

"...Homicide?" she whispered, peering up at him with alert and cautious eyes, lest they be followed.

Radagon's brows sharply rose, "Please elaborate for me then, Elia?"

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, her shoulders falling as she leaned against the tree, "...Malenia spoke with me before we left, and asked me to do something I'm inclined to agree with. I don't know to what extent it went, but she was involved with Millicent's father, Gowry. She wants him dead, and he was driven to see Millicent bloom into a valkyrie." mismatched eyes met gold as she peered at Radagon, "...I need your help. Godwyn…I'm not certain if he would agree with this, and I won't subject Millicent to this beyond informing her of what's been done-"

"Tell her." Radagon crossed his arms, too many thoughts swimming in his mind, but that one fact was clear, "Tell her or one incident of you undermining her chance to have a say in this matter will bite you in the arse." "...I'm not dragging her into this murder attempt." Elia muttered.

"Nor would I, but tell her Malenia's words, and why you feel compelled to do this. Fuck, I'll be with you if you wish… if he affronted Malenia, its of no issue to me to expunge him."

Elia stared in disbelief, "You're being very gracious."

"I am your companion and more inclined to see you supported and happy than perpetually under duress and struggling."

Radagon deadpanned, "What else if not that, do we owe to each other in our circumstance?"

She relaxed in relief, murmuring, "...You do understand the implications of our Gowry problem though, yes?"

"My daughter dabbled with a dubious man, and Millicent's origins are muddled at best. All the same he frightens them both and I wish to know why." Radagon cast a lingering glance to the camp, "My family spans more generations than I had previously thought…"

"...I don't think that facet of this should come out yet. Not without Malenia." Elia laced her fingers together, "It needs to be handled carefully."

"Agreed, this is more complicated with living parties than dispatching Millicent's father." Radagon held his chin in thought, glancing to Elia, "In your experience, what made this man so repulsive."

"...He worships the notion of rot, and sees the end result of Millicent forming an aeonia as her becoming the fairest of all flowers." Elia explained, "She was yet another budding flower that was his task to cultivate in this complex ritual of parenthood and worship? It unnerved me… and I don't trust that perspective to allow him to act in her best interest."

"...Then he dies. " Radagon simply nodded, resting a hand over Elia's shoulder, "Have you need of anything else from me?" Elia parted her lips, a sharp sound cut her off before a word could leave her.

Snap.

Twigs crunched underfoot and Radagon tensed. He gripped her arm tightly and tugged her close as he called out, "Who's out there?!"

Elia's eyes widened and as sharp as a cat, she withdrew Lacero whilst she eyed whatever lurked near the treeline, her back to Radagon's chest with his arm braced over her collar. Radagon grimaced, unarmed with his hammer resting in his tent, out of reach and useless. He rested a hand over Elia's hip, gripping Excorio's hilt as the figure stepped into the light.

When the black knife assassins had cornered Millicent and Elia, there was an air of unearned bravado and pride, young girls in shoes too big for them to fill as they donned the armor of legends. The figure that strode forward was alone, her weapon not yet drawn as unseen eyes surveyed the pair.

Languid and moving as smoothly as silk, the woman spoke finally, "The Prince of Death travels amongst your cohort, no?"

Radagon withdrew Excorio from its sheath, "Who asks, and why?"

"Put that weapon away, Elden Lord. I only wish to establish contact with the princeling, on behalf of my own order in hopes of pursuing restitution for what was done to him." The assassin inclined her head to Elia in curiosity, "Is that the goddess you crowned?"

Elia tensed in Radagon's hold, and only his arm over her shoulders kept her from lunging, "Who are you?"

"Una, my lady." The assassin swept into a mock bow, "Might I meet the prince, or settle for his consort awaiting him at Raya

Lucaria?"

Radagon grimaced, and only then realized how many eyes were cast upon him and Elia in such a public facing institution. Even friends and hospitable company talked, and those words went as far as the wind would carry them. Meanwhile, Elia shook in broiling rage at the thought of Fia being dragged into this mess, "Endanger Fia and it will be your head on a pike."

The arm over her shoulders tightened in warning, and Radagon spoke evenly and slowly, "Godwyn lies in our camp, abandon your weapons and we will see that he speaks to you. I guarantee nothing else beyond an audience."

"Tis all I need, Elden Lord." Una crossed her arms with a contented hum, "Lead on."

A Needed Talk

The walk to camp was brief, yet the seconds ticked onwards like minutes for Radagon and Elia. His arm had slipped from her shoulders, and Una was walked with Excorio almost flush to the back of her neck. Elia kept to Radagon's side, Lacero held at the ready and eyeing the assassin warily.

"...How long have you been following us?" Elia murmured, and Una cast a glance over her shoulder.

"Since our youngling came scrabbling back in a frenzy and reported that you swallowed a rune." Una spoke evenly, "They were brash to not confirm if you were aligned with restoring the tenants of death, and I do extend my gratitude for letting the girl go rather than making an example of her."

Elia blinked, "...She was scared and fairly reluctant to fight, if she was prepared to lay down her arms, she was always free to go."

"Its a good lesson to learn while young, the practicality of retreating. Survival is a more valuable thing than victory." Una peered ahead to the nearing camp, catching sight of the Prince who jolted to his feet at the sight of the trio.

"...We were being followed by one of them?" Godwyn had a hand over his sword, eyes narrowed when the assassin raised her hands.

"I only wish to talk, your highness." Una smoothly stepped forward, moving to remove her cowl.

"What words could I need to exchange with one of you?" Godwyn tersely ground out, "Did Ranni send you?"

"No. I represent my order on my own intentions, Ranni was a stepping stone to release death into the world. A muddled strategy that failed to bring about the complete toppling of Marika and her shadow unfortunately." Una shook her head, her words slow but concise. She was a tall woman, lithe and pale as the moon, and dark hair was pinned back from her face. Her features angular and gaunt, and dusk hued eyes paralleling Godwyn's.

"Then what business could I have with my assailants? The debt between us would see you slain for what was done to me." The prince stalked forward.

"Our order is a scattered and fraught one. Yet we still wish to see the world return to a natural cycle of the passing of life, beyond the yoke of the Erdtree. The Prince of Death is owed the seat of Nokron, find us there should you ever need to cast off even the divine, or to root out the most malformed entities of enduring undead." Una pressed, "The world was overturned the night you were assaulted, in a manner that shouldn't have come to pass in hindsight. Yet understand, I am thankful you stand as you are now. A being fit to wield Destined Death."

Radagon tensed at those words, silent as the grave as he cast a sidelong glance to Elia. He had questions for her regarding Maliketh's demise.

"...an alliance on your word alone is horribly frail." Godwyn sighed as he crossed his arms.

"You exist on the goodwill of an Elden Lord and Queen. I trust one of those options," Una's eyes raked over Radagon in open skepticism before she settled her gaze on Elia. She flitted over the prominent ridge of Elia's nose, full lips, a slender neck, sharp jawline, and dark hair with dense waves, "...Lady, your village was Vallis, no?"

Lacero lowered for a scant moment as Elia stiffly nodded, "Yeah…that was where my father settled our clan."

"You resemble Rami." Una furrowed her brows, "Find me in Nokron, if you care to see him. As to you, Godwyn. My offer still stands nor will you come to harm under my command. Any vagabond assassin that does turn their knife on you, they are already dead-"

Elia lurched forward, sword sheathed as her eyes went wide, snagging Una by the arm as the woman jolted back in alarm.

"What is it?" The assassin tried to shake off Elia's hold, her expression unsettled by the desperation in the Tarnished's eyes.

"...My uncle, how long has he been in your custody?" Elia demanded, Godwyn was speechless, and Radagon held his face with a muttered swear.

"Centuries." Una explained simply, "Liurnia failed him, his family exiled or absconding to the stars, he found other avenues for sanctuary and comfort… You are welcome to find him in your own time. I won't bar family from one another if you prove to not be hostile."

Elia dipped her head in relief, "...Thank you."

Una slowly pried her arm free, "Your sword, may I see it?"

Lacero was held out, still held firmly in Elia's grip in caution. Una's brows flew up at the oily iridescence of the blade, rapping a gloved knuckle to the flat of the blade, "Leviathan bone, hexed down to the marrow." The assassin smiled with rare fondness in her eyes, "It's good to see you preserved his handiwork, Elia."

"...I never gave you my name." She retracted the blade with uncertainty brewing in her stomach.

"He only has one niece." Una retorted with a knowing smile, "Find us in Nokron, if you have the inclination."

Godwyn cleared his throat, "...We can't abandon our current task to abscond away to a city with you, Assassin."

"I imposed no deadline. I will see you whenever I see you, your highness, my lady." The woman staged a bow, "I bid you all safe travels to Caelid. The region has a budding warlord it seems and I've lost two scouts to him already."

"Understood," Godwyn grimaced, "...and thank you for the forewarning." "Of course." Una waved before departing, leaving a strange calm in her wake.

Were they just handed an alliance?

Radagon would have pulled Elia aside, if their conversation with Millicent weren't such a pressing one. As he glanced at her, he could see the storm brewing in her mind.

A heavy hand shook her shoulder, "It's a blessing your family still survives. He seems to be in good hands, if that woman knows him personally enough to recognize a resemblance." "...and if he is bait?" Elia murmured.

"Then Nokron will be a bloodbath. I will dare to be optimistic however, recognizing a man's craftsmanship, his history, and family? Those are not details so easily forfeited to torture or abuse." Radagon countered, "...We still need to discuss the Gowry problem as well."

Elia nodded, "Agreed…better to have one shitty night than days of broiling anxiety."

Millicent fidgeted uncomfortably when confronted by Elia and Radagon, glancing between the pair, "...Why does Malenia have a say over what becomes of my father?"

Elia sighed, "She has history with him, a distressing one that paints how he became as zealous of a worshiper to the rot. She asked me to dispatch him…and seems wary to see him again."

"She doesn't get to decide what happens to my family, and can stay out of Caelid if he frightens her so much to render her a coward," Millicent ground out, "Don't harm him. I forbid it."

"You understand he wanted you to bloom?" Radagon commented then.

"And so I did and survived!" Millicent rose to her feet, "Protecting me doesn't endow the right to decide what is best for me. I surely can't tell Elia to not pursue her uncle if she so wished, even if delving into a city inhabited by assassins is suicidal at best?" "...You were unsettled by what he intended for you. If you want him alive…do you plan to see him, at any point?" Elia asked.

Millicent crossed her arms, feeling uncertain at the prospect, "...He did raise me, Elia. I will confront him, but not to dispatch him."

Radagon eyed her as he weighed his words carefully, "Do you remember much of your childhood, or his association to

Malenia?"

Millicent shook her head, "...I grew up in the ruins of Selia and his home with my sisters…but Malenia was long gone, and he never mentioned her by name. However we came under his care, we were safe and sheltered more than most afflicted by rot.

Gowry…was he entirely sane, no. Yet he cared for me, and I don't wish to see more of my family dead like my sisters, Elia." "I'm sorry." Elia murmured, not daring to challenge Millicent's verdict.

"...Goodnight, I'd like to retire alone tonight." Millicent murmured, retreating to her tent, and leaving the pair alone in awkward silence.

Elia lay back to back with Radagon in the already compact living situation of his tent.

"...Was I a fool to consider Malenia's word as reason enough to kill him?" she murmured.

"I was poised to do the same, the drive to protect family is an intense thing, yet not foolproof in its reasoning." Radagon replied,

"...This will pass in due time, Elia. She won't be upset with you forever."

"I almost undermined her, if not for you." She muttered, "...Thank you for intervening."

"Your welcome." Radagon shifted to look over her, "...The news about your uncle, how are you faring?"

"I worry as to where his loyalties lie… he served in the royal guard before Rennala's fall, after that civil war broke out and I lost contact with him." She murmured with a curse. Radagon's stomach dropped, "...Was your father also involved in the academy's collapse?"

Elia nodded, "...He favored the institution's alumni rather than existing on the waning goodwill of a monarch. We were foreign, understood to be of the same stock as Marika, and tensions came to a head when Liurnia's foundation was shattered. Its why I left and took up a living as a vagabond knight than stay and see my village expelled."

"...Why do you still hold Rennala in high esteem, much less me?" Radagon stared.

"I hated you both for a long while.," Elia spoke as she glared at the tent's canopy, "Yet I enjoyed living more…and Rennala was a broken woman when I saw her and was in a position to get restitution. No one won in this debacle. You suffered, my people were subjected to another diaspora, everyone was dealt a shit hand because of one singular entity."

"The greater will." Radagon sighed, staring at her intently as she turned in her bedroll to face him.

"I care far more to rebuild my father's work…and rehabilitate what I can of a country I called my home." Elia murmured.

"Not many are good at swallowing revenge. I expected a lifetime of being hated for what I did to you."

"I get the sense you still expect me to wake up one morning despising your very being."

"And if I still do?" He muttered, freezing when her hand cupped his cheek.

"I like you," she admitted, "Certainly enough to consider you a companion."

He didn't dare ask if her interests extended beyond that in that moment, and simply ducked his face into her shoulder with a weary exhale. Slender arms wrapped around his neck, and the night wore on in that embrace whilst they slept.

Starscourge

They found Una's scouts. Run through with a javelin still puncturing the torso of one, and arrows riddling the form of another, the corpses swayed in the fell wind of Caelid. The pair had been strung up by the neck from the gates of Redmane Castle as a warning. This land was claimed, and this castle occupied. Trespass on pain of death.

There was little option to bypass the complex however, not when it had hosted the wargames leading up to Radahn's death. Elia had been overwhelmed by the sheer activity and raucous nature of the fellow combatants, now it was an eerie silence that filled the complex. If not for the dead assassins, she would have thought the castle empty and abandoned.

Jerren was dead with no claim to stake over the fortress, its dungeons barren since Sellen's rescue. Who held the seat as the Lord of Caelid?

She almost learned that answer at the end of a spear being thrown for her chest,had she not heard the sharp whistle of air and leapt aside with a shriek. Radagon wheezed a wet and gruesome cough as the girls managed to topple into the sand unharmed.

He was not quite so likely.

More than one spear had been tossed, closer to six had been thrown in a volley by the skilled arm of the man looming on the ramparts above. Two had lanced Radagon through the chest and shoulder, pinning him with acute accuracy. The man's voice reverberated through his helmet, "Tarnished! I hoped I would see you again. Still fighting with overwhelming numbers?"

His voice boomed with a warm laugh emanating from the chest, drawing only confusion from the quartet as Millicent and Elia exchanged looks of confusion. Elia scowled at the man, "Pray tell, who the hell are you?!"

A moment of silence, and he shook his head with a wry sigh, wrenching off his helm and baring gold eyes and greyed skin rivalling that of a giant. "You know me, and have since our blades met in combat. What brings you to Redmane with that loathsome king?" The mirth left his eyes as he addressed Radagon, and his breath hitched at the sight of the man attending him. Blonde hair, pale as death, and uncharacteristic dusk blue eyes staring at Radahn in alarm.

"...Its been a long time, Radahn." Godwyn spoke finally, wrenching the last spear from Radagon's chest, the Elden Lord stood on unsteady feet as sinew and flesh mended. Radagon's lungs still felt flooded and heavy as he strained to breathe. Elia's blood turned to ice, as yet another scion of Radagon's defied death.

"We have words to exchange, Godwyn." Radahn spoke evenly, striding down the steps as he rushed to tug his step-brother into an embrace, "But know that I thank any power that brought you back to the land of the living."

Radahn even in his diminished state had the strength of ten men, and likely could have crushed ribs in his embrace had Godwyn not frantically tapped his shoulder to yield. Gently the prince was lowered to his feet, and the General turned his gaze to Elia and Radagon.

"Fantastic to see you alive, and with your aim still intact!?" Radagon hissed with open indignation.

"Tis all the welcome you need, Radagon." Radahn grimaced, and turned his gaze to Elia, arm outstretched, "Glad to see you're still spry as a damned bird."

Elia tentatively clasped his arm, her whole form jostled by the handshake as she stared up at Radahn, "..You - you're far smaller than when I last saw you, General?"

"A strange side effect I shant complain of when I still draw breath. What brings you here with my father as part of your ensemble?" Radahn questioned, his tone lighter now as he addressed her.

"Surveying the area actually, we had meant to lay you to rest if we found your corpse, but here you are. The rot in Caelid however is a lingering scar of the shattering I'd like to rectify…and we found Miquella, so it could very well be attainable." Elia murmured, "Radagon…he should explain his side of things."

The Elden Lord sent her a sour look to be thrust under the spotlight once more.

"Well, did she find you rotting with the omens in Leyndell?" Radahn crossed his arms with an expectant air about him. Radagon swore under his breath, "I removed Marika from power and took a new wife, here she is." he tersely waved to Elia.

Short and sweet, and all the explanation he cared to give to Radahn. The general was at a loss for words, processing what he heard until he looked to Elia for a more sufficient explanation. The woman sighed and muttered, "Radagon bound me to the ring, he is still Elden Lord, I'm now a goddess. I expect like Malenia you want a rematch as well?"

"...I see. Yes I do, yet that woman survived the bloom?" Radahn tensed, his expression one of pure loathing.

"Yes, and I will appreciate it if you don't rush off into the unknown to brew another war. Please." Elia grimaced.

"On the condition that you fight me in fair combat, one warrior to another." Radahn announced after a moment of deliberation.

"Agreed. When do we do this?" Elia asked.

"Now." Radahn beckoned her to follow him into the open sands.

Radagon eyed Elia with festering worry. He knew his son, Radahn's strength and zeal for war rivalled only Godfrey. Elia may be immortal, but a battle with the general was tantamount to suicide and agony to experience. His hand curled over her bicep as he whispered, "Why are you indulging him?"

"If I fight him and get him off of Malenia's trail, she owes me. A bit of gratitude will be a balm when she realises Gowry still lives." Elia muttered, and Radagon scowled at her shrew practicality.

"You're willing to eat shit for the convenience of it all?" Radagon muttered, to which Elia nodded with a stubborn grin at his frustration.

"Don't be too huffy with me, I'll be fine even if I'm pulverized." She rapped her knuckles to his chest, "Knowing what damage your hammer did to me that I could withstand, I'm hardly a dead woman if I lose."

Radagon's hair stood on end as he caught her hand, "Then go enjoy your fight, grackle," in a sharp juxtaposition to his drawling tone, his lips brushed her knuckles, "And good luck."

The desert was a punishing battlefield under a sweltering red sky. Radahn insisted they use their weapons and duel properly as nature would have intended. It would be strange to not be racing after the man on Torrent, but the shift in scale and sanity did much to ease Elia's nerves.

Give the man a show, and make him work for a victory, that was all she had to do.

She and Radahn circled one another, watching and waiting for the other to strike. Elia took the chance and seized, swords drawn and lunging for the general. His weapons were cruder implements resembling the great swords he once wielded that now lay half buried in the dunes. Heavy and curved, the swords would still easily sever a limb or tear a person in two if they hit their target. Elia wasn't bold enough to block them, Excorio and Lacero were hardly strong enough to bear the brunt of those strikes.

Radahn slashed for her chest, forcing her to leap high and swan dive for the general. He grimaced and raised the flat of his blade as a crude defense, "You've been studying my sister, haven't you?"

"She has a more refined form than me," Elia admitted openly as she ducked another swing, "Of course I learned from her."

"Yet she never bested me," Radahn rolled his shoulder and advanced on her, intending for this to be a proper show of swordsmanship rather than magic. In a forward lunge, he bashed the pommel of his sword into Elia's stomach, sending the woman flying with a sharp exhale. Her landing kicked up a plume of sand and obfuscated the battlefield.

Swearing under his breath, the general waded into the smog, ears pricked for any tells of Elia's footfalls. Slowly, she stalked and trailed him, gnashing her teeth as her chest ached. That strike had broken three ribs, only one was healed as the two uncomfortably dug into her lung.

Radahn only heard the wet exhale when she sucked in a sharp breath before her lunge to scrabble onto his back. A sword was dropped for his hand to paw at her hair for a handhold, Radahn's snarl briefly flashing into a smile as Elia's blade nicked his throat. His fingertips tangled into her braid, and she was thrown bodily into the sand. A boot stomped down, narrowly missing her back as she rolled and swiped her fallen sword.

Leaping back, she was puzzled by Radahn's booming laugh as she kept her distance whilst her ribs mended. "You must have been as slippery as an eel for Radagon to fight, no?"

"T-Thats fairly accurate, actually," she wheezed as she dodged another lunge, stumbling away from the man until his hand caught her by the collar, "U-Until he had me pinned."

Radahn bared his teeth in a smug grin as his hold over her throat until he felt the tip of Lacero slip under his arm, nestled in that damnable gap of his armor. As he froze, Elia headbutted him in the nose harshly, drawing a string of swears from the man as she kicked his chest and wrenched out of his grip.

Elia landed in the sand on her back, scrambling to her feet as Radahn was hot on her heels with a newfound fervor. Ever practical, she whirled on the man, scattering the a fistful of sand for his eyes and lunging. It was dirty and sloppy, to tackle a blinded man with a sword poised over his throat.

It was also a victory as far as the terms of the duel were concerned. Despite Radahn's writhing, Elia kept her legs locked around his waist, her sword poised to strike with his weapons dropped in the tackle.

"A-Are we finished General?" she labored for breath, and Radahn threw a hand over his eyes with a ragged exhale in frustration, "Get off of me Tarnished, we've found our victor."

Radahn was due to be sore about the method of his defeat for the remainder of the day most likely. Elia was more relieved to not have been dismembered, that levity lasting even when Radagon swept in to drag her off from his son.

"I bid you good luck and you use a tactic bordering on the same underhanded move as pocket sand?" Radagon muttered in disbelief.

"It worked though." Elia retorted.

"I thank my stars that the Erdtree wasn't a desert." Radagon deadpanned, "...Is his skill superior to you first encounter?"

"Yes…he's precise and controlled, far from the erratic and chaotic hunger of the general afflicted by rot."

"...Good, I worried what the toll of revival and time would be to him." Radagon murmured, "Are you certain you aren't wounded?"

"I am, you needn't worry for me so often."

"...Its a bit of a habit, apologies."

The pair made their way back to the keep, Radahn himself was occupied with the company of Godwyn and Millicent, affording the pair a peaceful evening. Weary and ready for a rest from the heat, they wasted little time to hurry back.

Family History

The evening spent in Redmane Castle was a peaceful affair, given Elia and Radagon had the wisdom to make themselves scarce from Radahn for the next few hours. That left them with the predicament of one another's company, however.

Elia had scouted out an unused guest room, spartan and covered in dust and fine sand, but private and spacious enough for two. She was the first to collapse into bed, limbs sore and weary from her brawl with the general. Radagon kept his eyes forward, sitting near her as he mused, "Are we back to shared sleeping accommodations?" "You missed them?" she cracked open an eye as she sat upright.

"I did." he sighed, "Bedding alone gives Rogier far too many opportunities to pry in casual conversation. With you I only deal with the occasional heat leeching."

"He's a polite fellow with me, did you two get off on the wrong foot?" She questioned.

Radagon shook his head, "No, he was a good host by most accounts, but it is all too easy to let details slip that I'd rather keep private. He did raise a few details about you however." Gold eyes bored into her.

"...What did he say?" She fidgeted under the stare.

"You aren't one to share your provisions often, not seafood at least." Radagon had a smug grin at that revelation, "You were being kind to me that night."

"I enjoy you." Elia retorted, "I've enjoyed you since you proved to not have a stick up your arse taller than the Erdtree and deigned to ask me for help when we approached Liurnia the first time. You're a man, not an indomitable wall with a hammer."

"...Blunt, but appreciated." He murmured, and extended an arm to her, "...I enjoy you, your warmth and being held. I don't partake in affection often outside my family."

"That's a bit silly," She shifted closer to drape an arm over his waist, "...It may be to different tastes, but I found comfort where I could in the early days of this journey."

He sucked in a tight breath, careful with his tone, "...With Fia?"

Elia nodded, "Yes…we found comfort in one another when we were universally repulsive or met with derision."

Radagon sighed in understanding, he would have been desperate if he had been so suddenly cast out. Was he not desperate already to be relenting to a baser need as an arm settled over Elia's shoulders? He settled his chin atop her head , "...Are you content to indulge me like this?"

"I benefit from this as well," she glanced up to him with a wry smile, "...Did you have many companions outside of your marriages, Radagon?"

He shook his head, "...There was perhaps Godfrey. A wild and resplendent man on the field, he was worthy to court a goddess."

Radagon's hold slackened a bit, "He was not mine. Marika staked her claim exclusively. He was never unkind to me however." "What was he like?" Elia's eyes shined at the prospect of hearing him reminisce.

"...Very regimented in his code and honoured his word intensely. Godfrey was a cornerstone of the Golden Order in his devotion to Marika…and she was a brighter sort then, less worn by godhood. He was a conqueror more than a King, yet he never abandoned my regiments or saw us as expendable..I know why Marika never forgave me as his replacement. A companion for life as reliable and earnest as him is a thing rarely found in the world." "...did you mourn his absence?" Elia questioned.

"I did… he continued to write through my marriage to Rennala. I don't doubt that he smoothed over the issues Marika took to my insubordination for as long as he was able. She would have been within her rights to drag me back to Leyndell. He was my friend, a man deserving of the love he held." Radagon glowered ahead at the stone wall, his fingertips idly lacing through Elia's locks, "I loved Godfrey, and owe him enough to ensure his son doesn't get himself killed twice over, even if he's a pompous ass." "...I fought him." Elia muttered.

"That doesn't surprise me. The first Tarnished, of course he would return for his wife." Radagon pinched the bridge of his nose, "...We know how uncertain death's grip is. You slew the assassins and they remained dead, yet grander meddling seems to beckon my children and who knows what else back to life."

"The Greater Will? Thus far every child reborn was a past contender for the ring."

"Perhaps, but a randomly cast boon can only do so much. Its hold is liminal. Radahn has his mind, Malenia never took up the sword against you and returned to Miquella promptly."

"...Rhykard." Elia grimaced, "I hate to tell you this, but we may have to visit another one of your sons in a worse hellhole than

Mohg's lair."

Radagon drew back with furrowed brows, taking Elia by the shoulders to keep her steady, "Elaborate for me. What was my son doing after the shattering?"

"...He sired a serpentine daughter, took a wife, and managed a stately manor in the bowels of a volcano." Elia muttered, "Atop a mound of dead sods he experimented with to produce his daughter, Rya. She's sweet and good natured, but I lost track of her whereabouts after Rhykard's death, and his wife seems to have lost her mind."

Radagon swore under his breath and ducked his face against Elia's shoulder, "Leave me in the Erdtree the next time we visit

Leyndell."

She held him again with a tired sigh, "I've got you, you're as stuck with me as I am with you. We'll go together when our business in Caelid is sorted, alright? Unless you're ready to see Ranni yet?"

"No…I truly don't have words to describe how I feel about confronting her after knowing what she's orchestrated. Not yet."

Radagon muttered, "...As for your uncle. How soon do you wish to see him?"

"...We should address your sons before I run off into another city." she murmured, "My uncle is safe, your family isn't as assured."

Radagon paused, and ever so tentatively his lips brushed her brow, "Thank you."

The two emerged to find Radahn deep in discussion with Millicent within the castle's great room, the closest room to a habitable and somewhat refurbished area of the ruin.

"Your prosthetics, do they move as fluidly as natural limbs, if you can recall the discrepancies?" Radahn held his chin in thought, asking Millicent the questions Malenia never indulged.

Millicent shook her head, "The movements are limited, angular and more forceful. There was a reason while Melania moved with such agility and could lunge as she did with three prosthetics."

"You are not Melania, how do you fight with them?" he corrected, peering at her with open curiosity.

"...I'm slower, and lost my leg fairly recently. My arm is stronger though since being gifted the arm…Elia found it for me." Millicent murmured, flexing the metal hand with a small smile, thankful Miquella had managed to repair it.

"You weren't among the Tarnished's cohort when she fought me. When did she find you?" Radahn raised his brows.

"Prior to fighting Malenia… you were dead by then, General. I've been in her company for months, perhaps half a year since then?" Millicent furrowed her brows in thought, "...How did you come to be revived, if I may be impertinent?"

"You may. It was divine luck I imagine. I felt the Erdtree's light upon my form, awakening near the site of my corpse." Radahn stated simply, "Who else have you and the Tarnished faced in her journey?

"I fought Malenia and Mohg alongside her…it was Mohg who worsened my rot to the point of amputating my leg unfortunately.

There was something truly vile in his blood." Millicent shivered, grimacing as the stump of her leg throbbed, "...Godrick, and Rykard fell to Elia alone, Godrick being slain before you, and Rykard…he was unnerving and a longer pursuit to root out. She didn't want me at risk."

"She's protective of you, intensely so. Why is that?" Radahn cocked his head at her.

"We're family." Millicent cast her gaze to the pair that entered, brows shooting up sharply to see Radagon and Elia side to side with casual ease.

"Were you busy with your consort?" the general bluntly aired out everyone's suspicion.

"We had a few plans to discuss, Radahn," Elia flatly replied as she braced a hand against Radagon's chest, the man looking tempted to smack his son.

The general made a noncommittal sound and beckoned them over, "Join us, I'm sure you have an interesting number of tales to share from your travels."

"I'll share my war stories if you share yours, Radahn," Elia grinned, moving to take a seat near Millicent. Radahn's intense stare was a clear message for Radagon to keep his distance. The father glared back with open defiance as he commandeered the chair between Elia and Godwyn.

The stalemate wore on, and Radahn fixed his attention to Elia with a brightening expression, "Still fighting with those poisoned toothpicks I see, if I reforged my swords, would they withstand them?"

"Likely not, these aren't meant to take a beating like your broadswords, Radahn. They're meant to disembowel and bleed the prey out. Nor are they as easily replaced as steel."

"Allow me?" He extended a hand, "I'd like to survey them."

With a moment of hesitation, Elia handed over the sheathed blades, "Don't cut yourself."

Radahn nodded and unsheathed Excorio, brows furrowed at the pearlescent details inlaid into…was that chitin? Oily black with a slight iridescence, it felt close to obsidian with a surprising lightness to its mass. He swung it for the open air, brows raised at the audible whistle of air hitting a lower note than expected.

"This was fashioned from a sea creature, yes?" Radahn inspected the blade under the light, "The runes aren't in Liurnian script, though the magic is certainly active. It's hexed through and through."

"Its not from a creature you would find here in this land. My uncle used those swords, and passed them onto me. He wields a similar set, starlit steel was a comparable substance to leviathan bone."

"...You're not of this land, are you?" Radahn furrowed his brows, "What land makes weapons from the husks of sea creatures with intense venoms?"

"Knossos." Elia murmured, "Its a set of isles more than a continent, but its where my family hailed from." "Were you born here?" Radahn returned the blades to her then.

Elia nodded, "I was, narrowly over a border and on land. From there we settled in Liurnia."

"...I only know of Marika hailing from another land, it isn't a thing many boast of." Radahn noted, taking stock of Elia's tall stature for a woman, and mismatched eyes, oddities compared to most of this land.

"It's not, and something I don't often discuss." Elia muttered, "This land is my home, regardless of its periodic rejection and expulsion of whomever the greater will deemed a malignance."

Radagon tensed, and Radahn crossed his arms, "The order held for centuries where countless institutions failed. A minor lapse-"

"A lapse of judgement exiled hundreds and upended their lives in perpetuity." Elia interjected, "What of their wellbeing?"

Radahn grimaced, "There are sacrifices one must swallow to keep order intact. I make no excuses for what happened to you, Tarnished, but my faith still holds firm in the validity of a dynasty to keep its kingdom whole." "Your dynasty isn't in the same position it was before Marika shattered the ring." Elia sighed.

Radahn's eyes went wide as he stood, "Repeat that, please."

"I…I don't jest. Marika did shatter the ring." Elia affirmed, "She was broken, Radahn. Much akin to Rennala's break after Radagon was taken from her-"

"Her name does not leave your mouth. You mean to tell me a goddess destroyed all that she had built with the death of her firstborn?" Radahn's fists clenched, disbelief clear in his voice, "Do not be so brazen as to lie to me within my own castle."

Radagon gripped the hammer with a warning charge of energy crackling along its handle, "She speaks the truth, boy. Now sit and I can happily explain the history you were never told."

Radahn swallowed hard, that weapon only dwarfed by Maliketh's black blade in its reputation. The general sat and glared at the pair, "Explain it to me then."

Blackened bark continued to slake off the Erdtree, golden light waning but still luminous enough to cast a soft glow over the surviving landscape of Leyndell. The thrones underneath its branches were long gone from the battle with Morgott, Godfrey, and finally Radagon. Splintered and ruined. The only one that remained was Marika's throne, a structure none dared touch.

Until this morning. Clawed hands lightly brushed ash from the wooden details, her crown still resting in its seat unclaimed. Yet the goddess was gone, the Erdtree open and emptied as a gutted corpse. The omen shook his head with a sour laugh,

"..Tarnished, what hath thou dared to become to sate thine flame?"

Morgott gazed upon his city, and understood simply. An age of ruin was dawning, and his kingdom was naught but ruin. No

longer was he Morgott, Last of all Kings. He was once more, Margitt the Fell, and he had a woman to hunt.

Blasphemy of the highest order could not be forgiven.

The Erdtree eked out its last boon, the grace of revival to those who could yet still defend the Golden Order when its leal hound had been seduced by personal ambition and sly wit of a foreign woman.

From the lowest Omen to the grandest of Generals, any would suffice.

Peacekeeping

Morgott drew the eyes of any who witnessed him. He was a looming form even in the streets of the budding gatehouse village, leaned into a knobbed stave that sheathed his blade as a walking stick to obscure his nimble gait. Tension was palpable among the tarnished denizens, yet none forbade his entry.

Odd, yet he continued about his walk with his hood drawn over his horns, hunched and slow in his steps. Walls hadn't yet been erected, yet houses were being built left right and center to encircle a plaza of a few carts and stalls as the denizens haggled. An oddly large pot of prawns caught Margitt's attention for a scant moment until the merchant flagged him down.

"Oi! To the tall bastard with the gimpy leg? You need a bite?" The merchant was a stout and crude man who beckoned Morgott over. Business was business for all Boggart cared.

The omen stared, "Who, pray tell, are thou supposed to be?"

Boggart gestured to the market, "A man tryin' to sell as anyone else here is, are you daft?"

Morgott sighed, "No. Merely perplexed why thou beckoned me over."

"I could try selling to 'em frog headed sods, but they don't like prawns." Boggart crossed his arms and surveyed Morgott, "You look like shit, where'd you come from?"

"Ah, Leyndell…it took time to dig through the ash obstructing the sewers." The lie flowed smoothly off Morgott's tongue.

"...You spent a month wastin' away in piss an' waste before making it here?" The merchant grimaced and forked over a small tub of prawns and crab, "Eat."

The smell of fish and brine was far from appealing, yet Morgott had done little to sustain himself since he took to the roads. His stomach audibly rumbled, and even his pickiness abated in the face of raw hunger for proper food.

And thus, he was roped into a meal with the self proclaimed Big Boggart outside a bustling inn.

The details flowed then like water from a well. Morgott needed to only nod and eat as Boggart spoke. Liurnia seemed to be pulsing with a new lease on life despite the absence of Rennala from the academy. The acting Headmistress was a mage whose name he did not recognize, and the academy seemed fairly accessible to the public if one was unarmed.

"..If not the Carians, who facilitated the reconsolidation of the academy?" Morgott asked.

"My best patron," Boggart's tone was terribly proud as he spoke, "I was the first merchant she convinced to start tradin' and residing here. Apparently she's fond of this place enough to make a home here, and conspired with a mage to take over here.

It's been good for business an' I've always had a warm bed to fall into since I set up shop."

"An economic woman just appeared from the ether?" Morgott deadpanned, "Who is she?"

"You'll see her soon enough, or the mean faced redhead shadowing her constantly. Rogier and I know her pretty well, Sellen too but she's a tightarse 'bout most things. Hard to miss a Tarnished-"

"...a tarnished woman helped cement a community?"

"She's not building houses, but she welcomed the first of us here, yes." Boggart nodded, "Goes by Elia, about so tall, brown hair, mismatched eyes like someone fumbled some marbles?"

Morgot set his jaw, tensed and slowly nodding, "So I see."

Radagon's words were heavy, "Marika shattered the ring in an attempt to end her existence, her faustian deal with the Greater Will having run its course and costing her the life of her firstborn. I disappeared not out of cowardice, but to vie for control as she subsumed me back into the body from which she made me. Repairing the ring was a failure, but I had to try lest I be both a coward and a fool with nothing to show for the years spent by her side."

"...One of the same flesh, yet two discrepant wills. Why did you marry her, because you had no choice?" Radahn pressed.

"Because I wanted you three to live. Is Marika above slaughter, is she entirely sane in her moments of grief? No. I've explained myself to Rennala… and she does not forgive my transgressions, but understand I play no part in further victimising Liurnia and wish her only happiness and peace." Radagon grimaced, "...The order is a shamble of its former self. Fight for your own will if anything, and hold your siblings close. That is all I ask of you as a father."

Those words hung heavily between father and son, and Radahn deflated with a soft exhale.

"...Rhykard, you would have fought him, no?" Radahn looked to Elia with dread in his tone.

"I did…and he was in fact fused with the serpent. Grace beckoned you into a second life, I don't know if it calls to him-"

"I must see with my own eyes if he's dead or alive." Radahn interjected, "Take me to him, as soon as time permits."

Godwyn cleared his throat, "...That entails travelling with us, Radahn, and keeping the peace."

"I understand that." Radahn sighed , "Tarnished, where is my brother?"

"I have a name." Elia finally corrected him, "If you'll be with our cohort, call me Elia. Understand that we are not a warband, and surveying Caelid was our goal. I'll take you Rhykard if you assist us in mapping out the worst epicentres of the Aeonian Swamps."

Radahn extended his hand to Elia, "We have an agreement, Elia. You'd best be a woman of your word."

Elia shook his hand, levelling a firm look to Radahn, "I am, it'll be a pleasure to work with you, General."

The ribcage of a rotting serpent was a foul and humid crevice to wake up within. Tanith was not a strong woman, but desperation called her strength and attention into harsh focus as nails scrabbled through scales, and finally tore through flesh. Red gore obscured Rhykard's lithe frame, the man blearily peering into the light with the intense clarity of those white gold eyes.

Tanith cared little for the fluids that stained her dress, and she wrenched Rhykard from the bowels of the serpent as an infant was pulled from the womb and into the world. He was alive. Weary, dazed, and covered in blood, but mercifully alive with an ounce of sanity in those pupils.

Rhykard rasped through a wet exhale, clumsily holding Tanith's face in his bloodied palm, "B...By what grace w-would I be allowed to embrace you once more, my lady?"

Off came Tanith's mask, her lips pressed to his with newfound fervour as she tangled a hand through thick locks of red. In a bed of scales and rot, the lovers were reunited in the haze of awe and relief.

Few words were exchanged, Rhykard himself dipped in and out of consciousness as Tanith's sworn knight carried his form from the bowels of the volcano. Intermittently, he felt the coolness of water washing away the filth and gore from his skin, until there was only the softness of his bed and his face held to Tanith's chest. He reached to snare his arms around her waist, murmuring an old vow that had once been such a pure and gentle promise, "...Join me, as family, my lady?"

"I never left you, my lord." Tanith's lilting tones were a gentle boon to the ears, and sleep came easily in her arms. Rhykard clutched firmly to her, hellbent to not let her or his mind slip. His gaze burned in the warm darkness of their chambers. A tarnished had slain him, plucking his rune from his corpse as if it were the spoils of war. Rhykard was unsure if that had loosened the noose of madness, or if he ever would have found strength and sanity in the path he had taken.

He wasn't Radahn, with a driven path for war that was straight as an arrow to follow. Nor ranni, guided by the stars to destiny. The middling son of a failed king and mad queen, his road was his own to chart. As he cradled Tanith to his chest, a new sense of resolve bloomed in his chest.

Family. Family was a solid enough cornerstone to protect. Yes, vengeance against the Tarnished was a tempting prospect, to mince the numen to pieces. Yet at the end of that road lay only death with poisoned blades and chitin armour…he recognized the relics of a seasoned Carian Knight once tasked with his safety.

Some battles were best left to rest. He was no general, no glorious princess, he was a humble enough man to seek peace when it landed atop his lap.

Rhykard placed a final kiss to Tanith's shoulder, and fell asleep curled against his wife.

Lineages

Rennala arrived at the Gatehouse late into the evening hours, fresh snow crunching underfoot as she saw the sleeping village that had sprouted like a weed. Buildings of narrow and tall or wide and quat stature were a strange assortment of styles with little cohesion beyond what was structurally sound. They clashed intensely with the ornate gothic styles of Raya Lucaria, but even still, the village had grafted itself to the academy.

Few were awake this hour to impede her entourage's approach, the princess in particular seemed wary of entering this place once more in the flesh and Blaidd kept to her side. She was a shadow to her mother, silent and observant as Rennala tersely spoke to the guard impeding her entry. Another tarnished in pilfered armor and a mace blocked their path, a hand raised and speaking with a notable tremor in their tone as he surveyed the remarkably tall woman, "...M'lady, what business do you 'ave here so late?"

Rennala sent the man a flat look, "I am Rennala, and I need to speak to the mage Sellen and her steward, Elia. Are they not here?"

The name made the soldier pale as he ushered them through, "Yes, of course, many apologies! …you won't find Elia here, she's been away for a few weeks now - rode off to Caelid on some expedition. Lady Sellen can better inform you I think."

Renna swore under her breath and eyed the guard with a tense nod, "Please take me to her, surely she must have seen the aberration of the stellar paths."

The soldier stared blankly, "...the stars are broke, is that the problem?"

"...It would be a dense subject to explain, just escort us." Rennala commanded.

Sellen was ever the night owl she had been in her fledgling days as a student, tracking her observations in a small notebook as she followed the drifting stars. The Observatory had seen frequent use these last few weeks, the lull and orbit of the cosmos out of harmony with an unknown source.

She felt intense eyes on her back, and slowly she peered over her shoulder. She fought the instinct to bow as she faced Rennala, nodding cooly to the woman, "...Lady Rennala, what brought you…and Ranni?" Sellen squinted at the girl and her wolfen guard, she was a far cry from the pale girl with dark hair she'd once been as her mother's spitting image, and Blaidd himself sported fresh scars cutting through his coat.

"Thou hath seen the wayward flow of the stars. Do you understand the source of this aberration?" Rennala was curt and to the point, "...Does Elia even know?"

Sellen slowly shook her head, "...We study the nights daily with precise tools and instruments, do you think a woman juggling

Radagon and Godwyn is going to be stargazing intently enough to see what we do?"

The room went still, and Ranni finally spoke, "...W-Who is in her cohort, Sorceress?"

"...Godwyn. The lad is alive by some miracle, and traveled with Elia in her expedition to Caelid." Sellen explained with a tight sigh, "Pursue the details from Fia if you must, she's pleasant enough and seems close to him and Elia… beyond that, Malenia and Miquella do reside here for the time being. Leave them be." The sorceress' tone brooked no argument.

Rennala exhaled sharply through her nose, "Is my academy a halfway house for demigods now?"

"Your academy has been out of your hands for decades, woman." Sellen ground out, "The demigods have done no harm thus far at least. It is what it is, and you can wait as anyone else shall for my apprentice to return. Find a chamber your majesties, it will be a while."

Ranni stepped out from her mother's side, caught by Rennala around the arm, "Stay thy pride, Ranni. Tis a fragile peace we have, nor should we break it over the frivolity of decorum."

Ranni grimaced, glowering at the graven witch as Sellen glared back, "Do not think I have forgotten how thou tried to unseat my mother."

Sellen's expression sobered then, and she nodded, "What stayed your hand then, princess?"

"The care shown to my mother. The actions of another than thee, I know." Ranni said, "It would be a poor display of gratitude to have punished thee and overlook kindness your apprentice extended."

The sorceress had few words to utter beyond a simple, "...Understood. I bid you both goodnight. I have a lecture early tomorrow." Sellen collected her things and made to depart.

Radahn was a man nothing short of efficient in his work. More oft than not Godwyn rode out with Radahn in their trips to survey the expansive swamps, leaving Radagon with the sisters to dole out their remaining quadrants on the thinning map of unsurveyed land.

It had been two weeks spent baking in the waste and making a refuge of Redmane Castle, and Millicent grew ever more restless in that time. Gowry was a looming figure she couldn't leave without closure. It was one evening, when she finally approached Elia alone and murmured, "...Can I trust you to honor my decisions regarding my father?"

Elia nodded once, "Whatever you decide, I won't question. Do you want me with you when you see him?"

"...Ride with me, but I'd like to speak to him alone, would you be just outside should anything happen?" Millicent asked.

"I'll be wherever you need me, yes." Elia said, "When do we leave?"

"Tonight, preferably…are we taking him along?" she nodded to Radagon, the man scouring the map with a particular disdain for the unmapped center of the largest aeonian swamp. Outdated maps of Caelid were a fleeting resource, redlined and corrected with countless notations.

"...I'd like him along, to have a second set of hands for a fight if needed. I don't trust these swamps to not be deadly even for us." Elia held her chin in thought.

Millicent sighed, "Then he comes along."

The trek to the shack was a mundane affair, conducted on foot and by lantern, Millicent would have known the foot trails back to her childhood home even whilst blind. She lingered before the door, and cast a nervous glance to Elia.

Elia reached to squeeze her hand, "We're just a call away, you'll be perfectly safe."

Millicent managed a brave smile, holding her sister's hand tightly before ducking inside.

Radagon watched her with furrowed brows, "What are the odds of this night ending without bloodshed?" He whispered to Elia.

"I don't know. Its up to her." She sighed pausing at his arm settling over her waist and lightly coaxing her to lean into his side.

Her brows rose, not protesting the gesture but certainly curious.

"...We may be waiting a long while for them to talk." He muttered. Elia shook her head and leaned her head against his shoulder, "Perhaps."

They waited together in silence.

Gowry sat in his chair, the very same as when Millicent had departed. The door creaked shut and she approached with a tentative, "...Hello?"

Gowry's eyes fluttered open from his slumber, a small smile gracing his features, "My aeonia."

Millicent stepped forward, "Are you faring alright since I left?"

"...Its quieter now, have your sisters gone to flower at you did?"

Millicent swallowed hard, "...I slew them with the Tarnished's help. They'll be dormant for a long time I imagine, if Malenia never intends to bloom."

Gowry stared, "...You're stronger than you were, I know you had to have risen from an aeonia."

"I-I did…twice now," Millicent murmured, "I would have died or become a valkyrie of rot if forced a third time to bloom. Why did you send my sisters after me, father? Is this any way for us to live?"

"...You were born upon the borrowed half life of Malenia's grace," Gowry's tone was gentle, "Death by rot or to bloom were the only paths ahead of you. I chose the option to save you…and them when Malenia finally slips." He peered at her with a soft sigh, "You may find it to be insanity, but every father only wishes for the longevity of his children… and now I understand that you've met your mother."

"I-I did…and she tried to slay me on sight." Millicent muttered.

"...Unfortunate and unsurprising, given her warring duty and destinies. The woman was never given an easy path to chart. Yet it was writ in her blood to bloom here, blood as her sustenance and war the field upon which the aeonia could flourish." Gowry explained, "You brought companions with you. Do they mean to slay me?"

"N-No, they won't hurt you unless I tell them to." Millicent shook her head.

Gowry managed a small smile and rose from his chair, weary as he stood and beckoned Millicent closer. She tentatively tugged him into an embrace, "...I won't become a valkyrie. Would you still accept that outcome if I can live on as a goddess' right hand?"

Gowry tensed, "How did you accomplish this, Millicent, and was this by your own consent?"

"Y-Yes…I don't want to be a scion of a god's will…I only want my family to be safe." She confessed.

"You've grown close to that Tarnished. Who is she to you?" Gowry questioned as he dree back from her.

"...She's a sister to me." She winced at Gowry's stern frown.

"A precious place on your heart to claim." He shook his head, "You won't be staying in Caelid, will you."

"No…but I would like to write to you." She murmured.

Gowry blinked in quiet surprise, "I would enjoy that, very much… you and your sisters will always be welcome under my roof, never be a stranger to us, Millicent."

Elia and Radagon had waited in silence for a long enough period, leaned into one another and nearly fell into a doze into the door creaked open. Millicent spoke up, "It went fi- oh stars." Gold eyes went wide at the sight.

Well…they were hospitable to each other at least, Radagon was the first to crack open an eye, "...Your father was receptive to seeing you?"

"Y-Yes…did I disturb-" Millicent muttered until Radagon interjected.

"No, it's fine," he shook his head, and murmured, "Are we departing?"

Millicent nodded, "I've said my piece with him…and if Malenia takes issue with him being alive, she can provide context before asking for his head again."

Radagon winced, "Understandable, it's a course of action that won't be repeated." "...Do you have any words for him?" Millicent asked then.

Radagon sighed, "I have many questions, ones that Malenia can answer. I have the sense I should leave your father well enough alone and vice versa, as separate branches of your family tree."

Millicent balked at the open acknowledgement, "...You recognize me as one of Malenia's line?"

"Can I reject that the sun warms our fields or that the moon pulls the tides? You are what you are Millicent." Radagon flatly stated as he gathered Elia into his arms, "We should make haste to the castle than tempt whatever wildlife makes this swamp its home."

"A-agreed," Millicent trailed after him, befuddled by the twofold revelation of Radagon's constitution.

An Act of Grace

The activity in Raya Lucaria's appendage of a village was undeniable. Mutterings and gossip brought the news to Morgott sooner than even Boggart's routine supper with him.

The Carian Queen and her daughter once more graced the academy. Lunar Princess Ranni, another traitor emboldened by ambition. Yet her plans had never seen the light of day, and even a Demigod as low as Godrick had never been felled by Morgott's hand. She was not his target, none except the Tarnished were to answer for the sin of blasphemy and usurping the throne. It was odd to see the cohort that held a passing fondness for her be civil with him, he realized with bitter irony.

Boggart's abrasive front fell away within hours of managing to stomach prawns and make barely passable conversation, rather Morgott let the man talk at him. Today was a change of pace however, when he asked, "Thine art a crafty man. Why be domesticated by the confines of a village's economy, on the word alone of a tarnished?"

"Craftiness comes about to survive a shit situation, mate. I want a boring post with safe walls and a warm bed, maybe a nice friend or two to have a drink with from time to time." Boggart gestured to Morgott with his trankard, "You sure as shit wanted more than the sewers, even if you learned how to survive them adeptly enough."

"Peace by any measure, that is thine want?" Morgott furrowed his brow, "Does this not pale to the days of the Golden Order?"

"Maybe. It surpasses the shattering though, I don't want a queen or lofty religion when that tree is as fickle as the damned weather it seems. I like having a village, people I see every day knowing they won't get nabbed or killed." Boggart sighed, "Don't you get tired of being on edge all the time?"

Morgott paused, "...I do not know the luxury of rest, Boggart."

"Marika's tits-" Morgott scowled at the phrase "-maybe you need to rethink some things about life then, eh? No one's gonna jab a knife between your ribs here, not without losing a hand or a head." Boggart retorted evenly.

The omen sighed, letting the man have the last word for once as he sipped his watered down ale.

In an effort to change the subject, Morgott asked, "...The Carian royals, why do you think they're here?"

Boggart shrugged, "I imagine to see the state of the academy, maybe Elia? Sellen might shed some light for me, she's due to send me the requisition request for this month anyways."

Morgott nodded, "...The academy is a closed institution aside from its partners and faculty I assume?"

"Somewhat, the libraries are open to anyone interested, you've got business there?" Boggart cocked his head, "You speak good, better than most. Literate too?"

Morgott nodded, "The luxury of a library would not be lost on me, no. Might I accompany thee?"

The omen swallowed the lie, and his stomach fell as Boggart gave a casual nod, "Why not? They need more smart folk in there anyway, Sellen's only cobbled together a handful of professors yet her students keep coming in." "I'm no professor, Boggart," Morgott dismissed the notion.

"And I wasn't anyone's friend once. Shit changes faster than you think." Boggart's optimism was a wasted effort, but Morgott managed a half smile at the thought.

When Elia came too, it was not outside Gowry's shack. She recognized the sandstone and granite of the castle halls, and peered up to whomever carried her.

"You sleep like the dead, woman." Radagon murmured as he trodded up the steps, and finally found their room. Despite his goading, he hardly seemed bothered to carry her, and did so with ease.

"I…I hadn't realized I passed out." Elia sighed, "Thank you for carrying me."

Radagon gave a nod as he set her onto the bed, "You needn't thank me for a simple act. It went well…with Gowry. Millicent by all accounts seems calmer about the affair after the fact than the weeks spent awaiting this confrontation."

"Good, good," Elia flopped into the mattress with a soft sigh, "...We only have one more swamp to scour. Then we go home?"

He nodded, " For our collective sanity, yes. A few days to recuperate at the academy and restock, then we make our way to Rykard's estate?"

"Volcano manor." Elia nodded.

Radagon sighed, slipping into the vacant space next to her as he slid an arm around her waist. Elia settled her hand over his own, and leaned into him with a quiet sigh, "...Has Marika been quiet these past few weeks?"

"...ever since I relayed news of Godwyn, yes. She seems calm and appeased for the moment. What of you, have you felt any calls by the greater will?" Radagon questioned lightly as he rested his chin atop Elia's shoulder.

"No…not since fighting you in Leyndell." she murmured, and he tensed.

"...That event specifically?" he whispered.

"I don't understand it either, but yes. Maybe the schism between a god and consort stunned it?" she muttered in thought, to which Radagon shook his head.

"Marika and I had worse battles in our marriage…and we've largely reconciled that incident, yes?"

"...I think we have. If it isn't forgiveness, we're far from skittish with one another." Elia said, "I know you to be a man of your word and I won't be hurt by you again."

"I understand that you aren't a callous woman by nature, and are quite loving of those you hold dear." Radagon confessed, "I don't resent you for that mess, and am glad you've stood by me in the time we've been together.

Elia shifted in his hold, studying his features with a faint blush tingeing her cheeks at the gentle words. Her hands cupped his face, and ever so lightly, her lips brushed his jawline, "This is a partnership I want to last, in whatever form it takes."

Radagon's hand raked through her hair then as his pulse raced, swallowing hard as he murmured, "As do I."

Marika awaited, arms crossed and studying Radagon intently, "You like this one."

He uncertainly nodded, " How is that pertaining to you, Marika?"

"If you can woo a new wife, you can make headway in separating us." She deadpanned, "...I want to see my son."

" Not in my body ," Radagon grimaced, "You constructed me, I understand what pieces you used, but how did you begin the process?

"...I used a mimic tear from Malileths excursion into Nokron, when he took hold of destined death." Marika murmured, "It took to my likeness and flesh as easily as clay in the hands of a potter. You were my mirror image until the war with the giants."

Radagon sighed, "... As luck would have it, I'm venturing to Nokron by spring."

"...I won't complain, but what draw you there?"

"An assassin reached out to Godwyn in hopes of an alliance…it being the seat of the last monarch to wield destined death, it is his by some warped path of succession." Radagon murmured.

"You don't care enough to accompany him alone." Marika pointed out with narrowed eyes, "What else is drawing you to Nokron?"

" Elia has family there, I'd be a fool to let her go alone." Radagon ground out.

"Ah. You're still in the honeymoon phase ." Marika nodded with a shiteating grin. Radagon reached for the hammer before shaking his head.

" Enough with you. I need a mimic tear and you will be waiting a while yet." Radagon sighed, " Try to keep quiet in my head?" "Maybe. I've seen a few glances at the girl you swooped into godhood however." She needled him then, and Radagon's gaze turned to ice.

"What of it?" He asked, his words clipped.

"She's quaint, foreign, and fights like an underhanded urchin. Nothing I would have expected compared to Rennala." Marika drawled, "Why her?"

"She's terribly stubborn, and more compassionate than you." Radagon retorted, "I didn't choose which Tarnished would waltz into the Erdtree, but I will be grateful it was her."

"How sentimental, is this your vision of repentance, rehabilitating a half feral woman?" She rested her cheek in her hand, "Don't break this one. She does need to last if you want a dynasty."

Radagon stared, " Pardon ?"

Marila rolled her eyes, "Don't be dainty, you survived consorting with me, was that not your plan in binding a pretty girl to the ring, her combat prowess not withstanding? She's of good stock as I, I thought you were being practical."

"No ." He grimaced, "That is not a foregone conclusion and far from my priority at the moment. I have my own children to see too."

"Don't blame me if someone else does the job. Queens are tempting, and someone will want a dynasty." Marika mused,

"Godfrey had little time to waste when he wanted me and I needed a consort."

"Forgive me for assuming my marriage doesn't enable me to just consummate the affair without careful planning." Radagon hissed.

"So you do have an interest!" Marika's expression was terribly smug.

"Leave me be, Marika." Radagon stepped back, and the dreamscape faded to black.

The Most Haphazard of Plans

Morgott felt woefully out of place in the delicate and ornate halls of the academy. Boggart was far less reverential or self conscious as his associate. The halls were lit by dim candlelight, and the scent of roses and parchment faintly filled the air. None of the Tarnished here were recognizable faces to Morgott's eye, yet they gave his towering form a wide berth and seemed to have few words for Boggart's general temperament to strangers. Less so Tarnished warriors vying for the seat of elden lord now they were simply students or a growing garrison that maintained the academy.

Let that ambition guide them to safe paths, and let them never know the allure of blasphemy. He glanced at Boggart, "What is thy task, beyond stocking the provisions for the school?"

"Mnm, I run correspondence through other merchants as needed, we're something of a messenger system in the right hands." Boggart informed, "What do you tend to do, before coming here?" "I fought to defend Lyndell once," Morgott confessed.

"When that leg heals you ought to spar, show people what you can do." Boggart suggested and pointed down the hall, "The main library's down there, Sellen's in the astral wing down the other end of it. You're all set to go readin' in peace?" "I am, thou has mine thanks." Morgott waved over his shoulder as he stalked ahead to the library's quiet aisles.

"Tis no trouble mate, enjoy." Boggart waved him off and made his way over to Sellen's office.

Radahn shook his head, "Why must we dawdle in Liurnia?" The general crossed his arms and scowled at the thought of a detour wasting days of precious time, "I've forestalled seeing Rykard for weeks, the valkyrie has sooner sorted her familial woes than I!" he gestured to Millicent with a huff.

"Y-You knew about it?" Millicent muttered.

"These walls are thin and you all air out your grievances like shouting to the wind." Radahn deadpanned, "We could easily make the trip directly to his estate."

"With what supplies, and what horses after we've ridden them across the continent?" Radagon interjected, "You may not need the rest general, but our steeds and our companions do. We will stop for a few days and move onward."

"Rykard is in a fortified location, and attended to by a consort as per Elia's account, he will last a while longer." Godwyn attempted to reassure Radahn and gripped his brother's shoulder, "Have faith in him."

The general sighed, "Faith for the blasphemous, Godwyn?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Faith in your family to be as enduring as you and Radagon have proven to be. You all are a tough lot to kill."

"That we are."

Morgott would have mistaken the girl for an idle doll atop the stack of books, had she not spoken," Omen, what brings thee here to the academy?"

He froze, knowing that voice from afar, and understanding that he was forever an enigma to the Demigods. Slowly Morgott peered over his shoulder, "Accompanying a companion of mine, majesty." his eyes flicked over her numerous hands, folded primly over a book as that blue glass eye followed Morgott with a newfound curiosity.

"I've not seen many of thine ilk beyond Leyndell. Does Liurnia bode well for thee?" Ranni asked, keen for any company beyond that of her half siblings she had managed to avoid thus far, or the proud posturing of Sellen. Blaidd was her mother's guard and attendant in their visit, and Ranni knew she would never come to harm in these halls.

"...The lands graced by the moon are a queer and odd place, but not unpleasantly so, princess. I pray my presence does not cause offence?" Morgott dipped his head low.

Ranni raised her hands in unison, cocking her head with a small smile, "What of me, having cast off mine flesh as one would a garment? Peruse the library freely, sir. I hath no quarrel with thee."

"Thank you." Morgott murmured, his voice quiet as he resumed his wandering. He gave a tired sigh, and hoped by some grace his blood would not stain the firmament of this place as it had Leyndell.

Boggart took up his usual spot when meeting with Sellen, propped back in an ornate armchair, boots atop her desk as she sipped her tea, "You secured another trade contact, have you?"

"I did, there's a budding fishing village just down river from Vallis' ruin. The catch is plentiful there, and they need help getting a mill going for the next year's harvests when they get their fields tilled. We could shore up the labour to help, and we have ourselves a steadier flow of food for your students, if they like fish." Boggart nodded along, taking the offered cup of tea with surprising care despite his graceless state, his helmet resting in his lap.

Sellen flashed him a small smile, "I'm sure they will manage, excellent work as always, Boggart."

"Thank you m'lady," he grinned, "Are you playing nice with the queen being back?"

Immediately Sellen's expression soured as she slumped in her chair, "Yes… They've kept their distance thankfully. What of you Boggart, have you come across them?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I'm just showing a new face around the village, tall omen fellow with a gimpy leg." "...I'm surprised he made it out of Leyndell after the Erdtree burned." Sellen muttered.

"As am I, but he's a stubborn sort. Likes prawns though, so he's probably got a good head on his shoulders." Boggart mused, to which Sellen shook her head.

"If only the world were so simple." The sorceress poured them both more tea, letting the minutes pass in amiable silence.

Departing from Caelid brought them from intense heat to rapidly cooling conditions within the week. Winter had arrived in full force, and the further into Liurnia they travelled, the more snow capped its buildings and trees and fields.

Snow had rarely fallen in Leyndell, the city graced with a near perpetual warmth under the Erdtree, the city never left its golden hues and rich bounty. Snow was still a novelty for Radagon in some respects, and had been a staple of fond memories with his children by Rennala. He glanced sidelong to Elia, bundled thickly under a fur cloak as she gripped Torrent's reins, "Were you ever fond of the winters here?"

"It took me time to get accustomed to it… I think we were built for a warmer climate than Liurnia, but I did love to ice skate when I was small." Elia murmured, "It came as easily as dancing."

"You danced?" Radagon blinked in surprise, looking to her expectantly to continue.

"Well, yes, I wasn't only drilled in academics and swordplay." She snorted, "What did you think my education looked like?"

"An arena or a lecture hall frankly." Radagon confessed, "...Well, enlighten me, what did you learn under your father?"

"A professor's daughter was expected to be a lady. I studied how to dance and sing, and possibly managed to bumble my way through calligraphy. I tolerated etiquette well enough when it meant father would let me stay up later in the observatory." She said with a small smile gracing her features, "What did you study when you first settled in Liurnia?"

"Spellcraft and glinstone sorcery." Radagon replied, "...I had a fondness for history and law in my personal pursuits. It helped me gain a better understanding of the world beyond war and Marika's memories alone..and hopefully better informed the structure I tried to impose on the Golden Order."

"...I think your strengths as a king were sooner in your ability to adapt," Elia murmured, "You all but abandoned war when you met Rennala, no?"

"We duelled thrice over the span of several months…she was captivating and soon I was looking for her on the field not out of bloodlust, but fascination." His tone was gentle as he recalled the sight of Rennala donned in her armour, a regalia fit for war.

"...Do you still have any hope of reconciling?" Elia asked, swallowing hard at the fondness thick in his tone.

"I wish for her to not hate me, but I know when something has come to an end." He cast a sidelong look to Elia, "I have other pursuits now, and she has hers. I'd like to see you dance one day, if you'd indulge me." "I could be so inclined." Elia dipped her head with a small smile, her face flushing with warmth.

Family Reunion

Morgott knew with the chatter and activity this early into the morning, something was afoot.

Boggart's accommodations were humble within the village, when he wasn't spending a night with Sellen in , a room rented out from the inn managed to house two when Rogier obliged to bring in a second bed. The frame was dwarfed by Morgott, yet the sentiment had not gone unappreciated. His time here had not been a waste, Boggart had been ample company ...and it was a surprise to not be held at arm's length. Leaned into his stave, and dressed in the rare sight of proper garments and his hood always mindfully drawn up, he departed his room to venture into the village.

What he saw made his blood boil. Four horses, a cart pulled by one of the lot held a man with the unmistakable likeness of General Radahn, his stature diminished to that of a man only narrowly taller than his father. Morgott's throat tightened at the sight of ash blond locks, pale and lacking their gilded brilliance. With a regal profile and dusk hued eyes lacking grace, Godwyn rode on, making casual conversation with the woman at the head of the entourage.

The Tarnished. Surrounded by two demigods and Radagon himself.

Morgott swore under his breath and kept his distance, reason and logic screamed at the foolishness of rushing in now. A well placed swing of that hammer would take his head, even if he managed to make it past Radahn. As for Godwyn… it was out of the question to face the man, his own flesh and blood. Despite his ire for Radagon, Morgott refused to test his odds against the Elden Lord.

The entourage continued about their way, earning several greetings and stares from the villagers. Tarnished seemed to recognize one of their own at a glance, and Radahn drew more and more stares at the recognizable grey pallor and red hair he sported. The General was uncharacteristically aloof, eyes forward and focused upon the academy with a heavy exhale. Morgott was pulled from his observations when a hand clapped his arm and he knew without looking who it was, "Boggart." "Mornin' mate, finally caught a glimpse of the lady?" He asked.

"Yes, thou enjoyed Sellen's company?" Morgott questioned softly.

"I did," Boggart knew little of shame, and with his helmet still tucked under his arm, his smile should have been infectious under better circumstances.

Fia's embrace was the warmest homecoming Godwyn had received in a long while. Slender arms encircled his shoulders, and the prince lifted her into an embrace, "I missed you dearly, my lady."

Fia's legs kicked at the sudden lift as she clung to Godwyn, "W-Welcome back, my lord…I hope you had an uneventful campaign?"

"...Not entirely uneventful, " he nodded to the figure looming at the entrance of the foyer, "Fia, may I introduce my brother, General Radahn."

His lady stared and with the air leaving her lungs, wheezed, "Rennala ought to know he's here - promptly."

A pause passed between them all, until Radahn eyed the doors, "My mother is here. Lovely."

"...How long has she been here, Fia?" Godwyn tentatively asked, paler than usual at the mess that could unfold. He was many things, yet never blind, and Elia had been…casual, with Radagon as of late.

"Almost a fortnight…she observed an anomaly within the stars with her daughter, Ranni. Both of them are in residence here." Fia sent him an apologetic look as Godwyn swore under his breath at that implication, "...i'm sorry, but you'll be confronting Ranni sooner than intended."

Radahn furrowed his brow, "What business do you have with my sister, Godwyn?"

Out of time and out patience, Godwyn raked his hands through his hair with a terse exhale, "I want to comprehend why she had me killed."

Radahn's eyes widened, "The night of black knives was her doing?"

"She was at least one of its architects…I need the whole truth from her lips. What befalls her depends on her testimony. " Godwyn grimaced, "I don't forgive her for this."

"...Don't lash out at her, if not for her, then for me." Radahn pressed.

Godwyn dipped his head, "I won't turn Raya Lucaria into a warzone. I only promise you that, Radahn."

"Lady Fia, where is my mother currently?" Radahn pressed, and Fia nearly balked under his focus, "..In the observatory with

Sellen. Godwyn, perhaps you'd best find Miquella and stay there while this unfolds?"

"...Fine. If anything goes awry, find me immediately Radahn." Godwyn said before stalking off into the halls. Fia was left with

Radahn, and asked, "...Radagon and Elia should know as well, where are they, General?"

"The stables, either putting away the horses or doing whatever they need to do in private." Radahn shrugged.

"A-Ah, thank you then." Fia nodded, gathering her skirts and hurrying down the halls.

A moment alone was a boon to Radagon when they entered the stables, sheltered from the cold and only having to dodge

Torrent's maw that still tried to snatch his braid, "I don't think your horse will ever be fond of me."

"He likes two people, Melina and I." Elia chuckled, "Don't take it personally. He's just a nasty little soul, but he's mine." The steed headbutted her chest as she spoke and ran a hand through his mane.

"He doesn't eat Millicent's hair, despite it growing out considerably." Radagon countered as he ushered his horse back into a

stall.

"Mnn, maybe he does despise you." She held her chin in contemplation.

"A feral horse for a grackle." Radagon deadpanned, only to wheeze when Elia lightly tugged his braid to bring him low enough for her lips to brush his cheek, "At this point I think you prefer that temperament."

Radagon would have had a clever response for that, his hand splayed over the small of her back and leaned in close with her until the door swung open. His attention fell to the slight form of the blonde eyeing them cautiously.

Elia froze, "...Fia? What is it?"

"...Rennala and Ranni are here… looking for you." she explained between heavy breaths, likely having sprinted to find the couple.

"Oh stars, help us." Radagon groaned, holding his face as Elia gently held his shoulder, "...We can go together?" "Please." He muffled through his hands, any pretence of bravado long gone.

Rennala awaited, surveying the observatory she'd once designed with her colleagues. She never quite swallowed the shame of forgetting the faces of Megathirio's family in her madness. His aptitude for stellar magic had been a boon in the Academy's infancy, and she could only imagine what knowledge was lost with his removal from the faculty as her mind slipped, and Liurnia began to cannibalize itself.

The scope was a design dressed in the aesthetics of Carian elegance, and the engineering and mathematics of a different land that created a harmony of runic arrays and machinery. There would be nothing like it again, and it was a miracle it yet functioned under Sellen's care and the scattered notes of a bygone professor. When the doors opened, Rennala turned on her heel with a tight exhale, "Elia?"

Ranni and Blaid tensed, dreading to see the Tarnished, yet the floor fell out from both of them with Radagon shadowing the

woman.

"You were looking for me, your majesty?" Elia rushed forward, not meeting Ranni's gaze.

Rennala was all too aware of the tension brewing, and sent Blaidd and Ranni a stern look in warning. This was no place for a debate or petty dispute.

"Unfortunately, yes. The forces that arrest the movement of the stars are unparalleled by any other except for mine son, Radahn… he lives still, does he not?"

Elia blanched, "...My lady, he's here, in this very academy. We found him revived and in fair enough health within Caelid."

Rennala sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, "...Is he hostile?"

"N-No…tread carefully, but he came with us willingly, and we were meant to investigate the matter of Rykard's death, if it were binding or if we would find him alive… I'm betting the same bit of divine intervention may have saved your son."

"I understand this will complicate matters for thee, but I am grateful and glad to hear of such news." Rennala wrung her wrists and stepped forward, lightly cupping Elia's cheek, "...And him." Her eyes flicked to Radagon, "Have things been stable in this marriage?"

Elia swallowed hard, "...We've had our disputes, but we've kept the peace with one another for the last few weeks. It's fine between us." She'd rather not disclose the open affection she had for the woman's ex husband, not so soon.

"I am relieved, and thou are never out of options, Elia." Rennala nodded, "...Ranni, thou had words for her, dost thou have anything to say here and now?"

Ranni eyed Radagon for a moment, "...I would crave a moment alone to speak with thee Tarnished, after thine business here is complete."

"Very well, princess." Elia nodded, ever leaning into formality to maintain that precious iota of distance, "...your majesty, if you wish to see your son urgently, I won't keep you."

Rennala nodded, and withdrew from Elia, "I thank thee, good luck." The Carian Queen swept from the room with a newfound urgency in her stride, leaving the four alone in pregnant silence as the doors slid shut.

Radagon was the first to speak, never one to waste time as he stepped forward, "What did you plot, the night Godwyn died,

Ranni? I can assure you, he will be expecting a substantial answer from you one way or another, nor will he be as charitable as

I."

It was an underhanded point of pressure, to speak and hope to have Radagon at her defense, or keep her secrets and be alone to fend off Godwyn. Elia raised her brows, pondering if he dared to pose a bluff, or if he could stand to see his daughter held accountable for fratricide.

Ranni's expression was tight, her voice strained, "I hath no words for thee, father. Be silent or begone."

Radagon set his jaw, glancing sidelong to Elia as she spoke, "Then what words do you have to share, Ranni? Our entanglement ended when I rejected your proposal."

"...Thou wanted to fix the world, yet art thou any closer bound in marriage to him of all people?" Ranni gestured to her father with open disdain.

"...I had no desire to be your consort." Elia countered, "Radagon, I can see myself growing into my place and being happy. Your age of stars may be one path towards liberation, but it is not the road I want to walk when this land has hung in the fog of uncertainty for too long. The cosmos is grand and wise, but it is not so easily moved by the fleeting affairs of the mortal plane. It is a faith of the mind yet with little heart for those who live, struggle, and die."

"Thou think to have hands capable of ushering in a golden age as they cradle the world?" Ranni's tone was doubtful.

"No. I only want to keep the peace and let people rebuild without gods and kings bringing war to their doorstep as readily as the seasons change." Elia sighed, "I don't ask for your approval, but understand I never saw to betray you and felt you were owed your own freedom to cast off whatever the greater will planned for you. That wasn't my consent to marriage."

Ranni was silent for a long moment, and leveled a cold glare to Radagon, "He took thee as a warlord takes the spoils of war, forcefully and without shame. Am I wrong?"

"You take issue with an incident I haven't forgiven, but can live with." Elia grimaced, "Keep your numerous hands out of my affairs Ranni, and prioritize protecting your own skin when Godwyn finds you, it will be sooner than you think."

She turned her back to the princess and strode from the room, her chest heavy and cold as she pushed open the doors.

Radagon stepped between Ranni and Blaidd to keep them from pursuing Elia, eyes narrowed, "Are we finished here?"

Ranni grimaced, "I am finished with her. Yes."

"Then I have a matter to discuss with you, hopefully for the last time with Marika and I's children." Radagon muttered.

Ranni cocked her head, "What could thou have to say that I haven't uncovered."

"The duality of Marika and I as one singular entity." Radagon countered, unsurprised by her and Blaidd's confused silence, "Allow me to explain…and finally apologize to you for what I did to dismantle our family."

The academy was a public institution, to man, demigod, and omen alike. Having passed through the gates once in Boggart's company endowed Morgott the ease to enter with a simple answer for the guardsman asking what business he had here.

"...simply to revisit the library, if I may?" Morgott borrowed the casual inflections of his friend, and the guards hesitated only a moment before waving him through.

"Get to where you need to be, and don't take anything without one of Sellen's clerks signing off on it." They muttered half heartedly, having grown somewhat accustomed to the tall hunched omen trailing after Boggart like a looming shadow.

Morgott nodded, and ambled through the halls with an alert focus. He walked a dangerous line of being recognized by the General and the Tarnished. He need only avoid one, and find the other promptly. His hunt began in the cold light of day, unsuspected and overlooked.

Dueling Kings

The night Godwyn met his fate had been an innocuous one. No feasts or festivals had been honored, no great conquests or battles won. The prince had dined with his mother, a rare evening alone from court and spent as the small facet they were of the strange tapestry their family now was.

He never should have drank the wine. A draught slipped past the best of servants, or enabled. He would never have an answer for that mystery. The last he saw of his mother was to bid her goodnight, and within the hour, his consciousness had begun to fade. It was a migraine first, then a sickness of the stomach. Then the progressing numbness of the body. He hadn't felt hands close over his arms, dragging him from candlelit halls into the darkened catacombs and servant tunnels of the palace.

Vertigo and darkness kept him dazed, the very shackles that would bind an omen used to keep his limbs immobilized. Had he been more lucid, he would have screamed, fought, done anything than be dragged as a helpless lamb to slaughter. Smuggled and handed over to a gaggle of women armed to the teeth, the catacombs would only be secure for so long. It would not take long to carve his flesh. Arms strung out and twisted, his senses were shocked into harsh clarity as the knife plunged into his back, and he let out a scream that rattled the very bricks in their mortar.

Marika's heart stopped at that inhuman scream as it carried, and Morgott trembled in his chains within the bowels of Leyndell. Radagon's blood ran cold as the sound faded into silence, with no encore to be heard. Marika ran, Morgott strained against his chains, Radagon rallied the garrison.

It was all for naught.

Godwyn expired the same as any livestock that met the butcher's knife, his form discarded as the writhing flesh it now was. Many of the women would die that night, yet the damage was done. Marika was pushed to her limit, and could only be compelled to look away when Radagon closed a hand over her eyes, tugging her back by force as he uttered, "...Avert your eyes, Marika."

Marika writhed against his hold, until he took her by the shoulders, having made his way into the adjacent corridor. Eye to eye, the red king and golden queen were two frenzied halves waiting to strike. Marika clawed her hands into his forearms, shivering as she ducked her face into his chest and wept.

It would be the only ounce of tenderness shared in the waning days of their shared existence.

A night of wintry fog graced Liurnia, and Elia sat accompanied by Millicent in the expansive courtyard, one of the few spots she wouldn't be disturbed within at this hour. Millicent leaned against her side, murmuring, "...No one ended up impaled at least from tonight."

"That is true…" Elia sighed, "I only hope Radahn has a better reunion with Rennala and Radagon did with Ranni."

"I would think so - he still holds his family close to him, if his concern for his brother is any indication." Millicent said, "I can't remember my sisters being as impassioned as he."

"...did the rot leave many memories of them?" Elia tentatively asked.

Millicent shook her head, until the glint of an iridescent metal caught her eye. Her breath hitched and in the span of a few moments it took to flinch, a spear of light was thrown.

Lanced through the stomach, Millicent was pinned as her blood burned, a feral scream leaving her as Elia was forced to dive aside with her pulse racing and a snarl on her lips.

"No maiden will assist thee in thy battle Tarnished, not again." Morgott ground out from his perch atop Radagon's statue, sword poised to strike as the woman brandished her swords.

"...It revived you too," Elia whispered in horror, "To what end are you here for, Morgott?!"

He did not grace her with a reply as he lunged, kicking off with enough force to send fissures through the stone perch. That blade nearly severed her head as she evaded, only for his hammer to collide into her stomach with brutal strength. She was sent toppling over stone in a harsh roll, Excorio limply held in her grip as she spat ichor onto the pavement.

The sight made Morgott stare, faltering in his advance as he seethed, "What glory hath thou stolen, Tarnished!?" He raised the hammer high, and Elia rolled as she held her healing gut, off balance and unsteady in her stance. Morgott lunged for her, a hand closing over her throat with bruising force, and the tainted blade plunging through her sternum. Gold marred her breast plate, dripping down the length of his sword.

Elia's body was limp.

Ranni peered at her father with cold scrutiny, "...My mother suffered immensely because of thee, despite the truth of the matter, that remains unchanged."

"I know. I don't expect forgiveness, but you do deserve the truth of our family." Radagon sighed, "...Why did you do it, ordering Godwyn's assassination?"

"I will explain when he asks me that question…he would be the one most deserving of an answer."

Ranni murmured, "...I wanted to shake off the noose of a god, my work was meant to amount to something."

"...You won't likely win Elia's approval, thus you should move on. She's willing to do so for most things. Your age of stars won't come to fruition with her, maybe it won't ever come about, and you will find other pursuits that satisfy your ambitions. I don't think you lament the month you've gotten to spend with Rennala?" Radagon questioned gently, "You failed, yet life is rarely a zero sum game."

"...Take me to Godwyn, please? I would like to speak with him before I lose my nerve." Ranni replied.

Radagon nodded, and beckoned her to follow him as a scream split the air.

His heart stopped.

Consciousness was a scathing and stinging assault on Elia's senses as she awoke, still aloft on the blade lancing her chest, and staring down at Morgott with newfound contempt, "H-How many times do we do this dance, Morgott, until you finally fucking relent?!" she kicked out against his chest, the blade leaving her chest with a slick sound of gored flesh against metal before she landed in a heap. The omen staggered before he advanced, a hammer in hand and murder in his eyes,

"For as long as it takes to wrench the stolen grace from thine blood, tarnished wretch." The hammer narrowly missed as it struck the earth with shattering force, "Before you die, enlighten me, how did you manage to outwit Radagon?"

"...Beg your fucking pardon?" Elia hissed between strikes, "What impression do you have of me to think I outplayed him?!"

"A Tarnished of no renown supplants Marika and takes her husband as her consort?" Morgott lunged to seize Elia by the throat as she lanced Lacero through his ribs. He trembled and tightened his grip on her even as she twisted the blade, "Might I be so crass as to presume the man's standards slipped with his imprisonment, and thy were a temptation to lead him astray?! Or are thee somehow above such a thing?"

Elia shook her head with a wry laugh, her voice a strained and husky sound, "He stole me, you fool. Kill me, and have him hunt you for the rest of your dwindling days. I know who would win, as would you," hers was a knowing and bitter smile, and Morgott bodily threw her across the courtyard.

Millicent struggled to rise to her feet, her wounds were slower to mend than those of a goddess taking a beating from hell. She gripped her sword in her prosthetic hand, still dazed and swearing as she ambled forward.

Gnashing her teeth, the red shadow forward to leap at Morgott's back, gripping a horn for purchase as she drove her sword through his shoulder. The omen screamed and blindly reached for the girl to claw her off of his back, "Thy art but a damned rodent! Clawing for glory that was never thine to take," his hand gripped Millicent by the hair, and he threw her aside as he advanced upon Elia once more.

Their fight had been far from discreet, and Elia's scream had been the warning shot to alert many within the academy. Morgott needed to hurry, and needed time. If the woman wouldn't die easily, it was time to flee. He seized Elia by the arm, eyeing the railing with grim calculation. With each step, the pain from his festering wound pulsed and dug deeper, the blood refused to clot and congeal from that gash Lacero had made. As he labored for breath, Morgott lifted the half conscious woman and bolted for the railing in retreat.

He nearly made it until the wash of gold lightning rained down with Radagon's strike of the hammer. Morgott hissed and retreated back into the courtyard from the range of the lightning that still crackled through the stone fissures, glowing with a luminous power as Radagon advanced, "Morgott."

"Elden Lord." The omen ground out, feeling the weight of Radagon's glare towards the woman slung over Morgott's shoulder in his haste to retreat.

"My wife, unhand her." It was not a request, with a hammer poised to cave in the offending man's skull.

With ever dwindling time, Morgott dared to ask, "So thou hath truly forsaken Marika, finally you show your true colors, hound?" "...Violence it is then." The King whispered.

Radagon lunged, Morgott narrowly evaded the first strike, and was caught across the jaw on the hammer's backwing. A boot braced itself against Morgott's chest to pin the omen as he fell, and Radagon wrenched Elia from Morgott's grip.

The hammer was heavy against Morgott's throat, "Yield, or die here."

Eye for an Eye

Morgott glowered with contempt, "Thou carried treason in your heart ever since you spirited away to Liurnia, haven't thee?"

Radagon grimaced, "What do you have left to gain by serving a dead religion, Morgott. Your mother is dormant and buried, Mohg slain. Would Godfrey have ever wanted this of his sons?"

"Thou who did nothing to protect me, will not speak of my father so casually. Mine own blood is a stain upon my family, yet thou art a limb that must be severed in its entirety!" The omen swept his tail and threw out Radagon's feet from under him with the sudden movement.

Radagon narrowly managed to land on bended knee, clutching Elia tightly over his shoulder, the hammer held in his opposing grip. Morgott seized his sword, hunched from the weeping and festering wound Lacero had left in his side. Radagon circled the man, knowing when one scream had dragged the Elden Lord's attention, the sounds of a battle were likely to draw ever more parties to the battle that ensued.

The hammer crackled with energy, and once more Radagon struck the earth. Tiles and lesser statues went flying from the burst of energy, clipping Morgott's horns and sending the omen sprawling into the base of Radagon's statue with enough force to send fissures up the leg. Rather than advance, Radagon kept his distance and deposited Elia near Millicent, urging the redhead to move, "Go, find Malenia and Radahn!"

Millicent sucked in a shaking exhale as she collected Elia into her arms, muttering hastily, "I-I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Go, none of us expected him, just make haste and flee!" He pushed her towards the doors and blocked Morgott's path as the omen ambled up the stairs with a snarl, "That knight is as pitiful as she is useless at defending her charge." Having no reply for his taunt, Radagon's form dissipated into gold mist.

Morgott held his weapons at the ready, thrown forward by the first golden shockwave of energy.

In a flash Radagon warped into a swing, breaking two horns and shattering Morgott's jaw with the strike. The omen's scream was sharp and guttural, and Radagon seized him by the neck before throwing him into the statue's remains. It shattered upon impact, leaving Morgott partly buried in the rubble and limp.

When the General expected to see Malenia next, it wasn't in the Liurnian courtyard whilst shackling an Omen. He understood why Radagon sent for them both…alone Margitt had been a fearsome bastard to face. That defeat had sent the general back to Caelid to lick his wounds and pull out of the war as best he could, and to hold his castle and Sellia in peace. To think, this man had been the Golden Order's last loyal soldier.

Radahn shook his head, glancing to Malenia as they dragged out Morgott from the rubble, "...His brother is the one who kidnapped Miquella, yes?"

She nodded, grim and silent as she glared at the creature, "Mohg. As far as Elia told me, yes it was his brother who led a gaggle of cultists to hold my brother hostage. Why is this wretch here however?"

"To dole out judgment of some fashion." Radagon sighed, "He attacked Elia and Millicent, unguarded and alone. What perplexes me is how he slipped into the academy unchecked."

Malenia cleared her throat, "...The garrison is fairly comfortable with the townsfolk, and the academy is something of a public institution to them now. It was bound to happen one way or another…he was simply clever enough to strike at the proper time rather than face us all at once. He nearly made off with the Tarnished, yes?"

Radagon nodded, "He almost did. The dungeons are still in working order if I'm correct?"

"I dispatched some men to ready a cell, we don't have the same capacity as Leyndell did to secure an omen, he needs to be under constant watch."

"Agreed," Radagon glared , "I want answers from him when he awakens. "

When Sellen was awoken in the dead of night, she had little expectation of finding her girls laid out in Elia's quarters. Elia's wound whilst mending left her spent and unconscious, and Millicent was in more direct need of draughts and potions. It unnerved Sellen to see gold blood staining Elia, and flesh knitting itself back together as bruises faded with an ever increasing speed.

When Millicent had been tended to, Sellen finally asked, "...How did this happen, Millicent?"

Millicent refused to meet Sellen's eyes as she held her face, "It…It was an ambush. An omen attacked us, to settle an old score with Elia. She definitely recognized him, called him Morgott?"

Sellen grimaced, "...He had to have been smuggled in, the wards around the perimeter of the academy are still strong and unbreached. If he had forced his way inside, we would have known."

"I-I don't know how he did it…he was just upon us in an instant and I was too slow to do anything of substance." Millicent shook her head in shame.

"Darling, you took a beating and did all that you could, I'm merely glad that you two are alive and safe now." Sellen's lips brushed her brow, "Leave the omen to us, I'll flay him alive for his transgressions on our home."

Millicent closed her arms around Sellen, and tucked her face into the sorceress' shoulder as her form shook. As Sellen held her charge, she cast a wary glance to the door. It was only a matter of time before this room would be flooded with demigods and royals with endless questions and a debate of what to do with their prisoner. The waning moments of peace wore on, and finally, a knock rapped at Elia's door.

"Enter, quietly." Sellen commanded.

For once, she was relieved to see Radagon as he entered the room, his eyes lingering on Millicent with a quiet sigh. He should have been quicker, faster to arrive when he heard the first shout. Better yet, why was he a fool to leave Elia unattended or unguarded beyond just her shadow?

"...She's still unconscious." He furrowed his brow at the sight of Elia and spattered blots of ichor. What alarmed him were not her fresh wounds, but the faint scarring from where her breastplate had scored and impaled her sternum in his last duel with her. Something her body hadn't known how to heal so cleanly yet on its own. Even the marks of Mohg's trident had vanished with the aid of a draught.

"Omen blood seems to be severe to the form of a creature of grace. She's mending on a surface level..but she's sapped and done for today I think." Sellen murmured, still holding Millicent, "...Keep watch over her, I'd rather deal with the questions of your children outside than have a debriefing here."

Radagon stared, "...I can manage that, summon me if you need any further details on Morgott."

"I shall, don't let anything else hurt her tonight, please." Sellen's words were strained, "...did you make him suffer for his transgression?"

"Morgott will be licking his wounds for weeks I imagine. I spared him no quarter, Sellen." "Good." She made to depart then with Millicent at her side.

The cells below Raya Lucaria were few in number, yet frigid and carved from the bedrock of the cliff. Morgott awoke to the dim light of a glintstone lamp, his wrists shackled behind him and ankles chained to a heavy plate bolted down in the center of the room. His weapons were predictably absent, and the heavy fog plaguing his mind told of some drug slipped into his system by some measure.

He was lucid enough in mind to understand this night was a failure. Twisting against his chains with a weary exhale, the omen dipped his head in shame. He was a dead man now, or liable to live out whatever length of time he had left at the mercy of an incensed elden lord and his traitorous spawnlings. He expected to see a mane of red when the door finally opened to his cell.

Rather, he saw ash blond locks, and the stern face of Godwyn the Golden. Brother faced brother, and the prince stared at Morgott for the first time in his life.

"...You were the last King of Leyndell, son of Godfrey?" he asked, tentative and tensed as he approached the cell's bars.

Morgott nodded, working his aching jaw before he spoke, "I was…my blood is a foul and tainted mark upon the golden lineage, I lay no claim to royalty."

"You defended the Erdtree, as the last member of our family still standing in service to our mother's name?" Godwyn sat across from Morgott, brow furrowed and contemplative.

"...I was given grace when all else became willful traitors emboldened by ambition. T'was not an effort to usurp the Greater Will, only to serve my family."

"A family that chained you and left you to rot." Godwyn sighed, "...They will want answers, and likely your head for how you came to be after Elia reportedly killed you the first time. Why did you think an assassination would work?

"If I die, I die, Godwyn. I've little fear of death, only the fear of having spat upon the purpose I was given grace to execute. A Tarnished usurped our mother, am I meant to simply stand by and let her live?" Morgott asked, his voice faint.

"Vengeance for a dead woman." Godwyn ground out, "...You honor our mother in a world that increasingly reviles her. I understand why you took up a sword for her, but this is suicide if you cannot move on. There are options for you beyond a noose or chains."

"Options. Name them for me, why don't you?" Morgott spat, "The only one in this damned village to welcome my presence was an addled merchant selling prawns that took pity upon me."

"You walked these halls without suspicion, perused the library for days without obstruction. In Leyndell had you shown your face, you'd have been strung up and killed, or stoned and chased out. There is progress to be recognized here, however miniscule!"

Godwyn hissed, "Too many have died in this family for you to hang yourself with the mantle of vengeance as your gallows, Morgott."

"...Leave me, Godwyn. Do not waste thine breath attempting to save a man who is already dead."

The Bindings of Flesh and Steel

The ache of Morgott's battle still lingered, even with the abrasions and bruising having faded, ichor still spotted Elia's bandaging. When she finally opened her eyes, the sky was still dark with dawn a few hours away. What drew her attention was Radagon's restless pacing, the man deep in thought in stern silence. Shoulders tensed, and his hammer not far from reach as it rested on her desk, he muttered to himself in the hours he'd likely spent as her guard.

"The wretch nearly made off with her…" he grimaced, if death hadn't been a viable route, a hostage situation was a very tangible threat. Tracking down one woman in the Lands Between would be hell, and Morgott was a creature familiarised with duplicity and evasion. It didn't bode well that it took Elia a day and a night to flush out the omen taint in a feverish sleep. Marika had only been bedridden after her most stressful births, the omen twins, and Miquella and Malenia. Any bedside care had been Godfrey's or Godwyn's duties, Radagon had relinquished any responsibility for Marika in no uncertain terms beyond the twins.

Sellen had done good work to mend Millicent so quickly, and done the needed bandaging and draughts for Elia despite her accelerated healing. Thus Radagon was left with little else to do but keep his post and direct any passerbys away. Such had been an hourly routine that when he heard the shifting of linens, he whirled to face her in an instant. His shoulders sagged in relief and she felt his arms lock around her waist within moments.

With an audible hitch in her breath, Elia wrapped her arms around his neck with a weary exhale, "...Thank you for saving our skins."

Radagon didn't slacken his hold as he nodded, cupping the back of her head as he bumped his brow to hers, "Morgott is a dead man for this."

Elia had few words to say on behalf of her assailant, and tugged Radagon into the bed as she clung. Radagon was in no mood to protest, his ire abating at the realisation of her invitation. He released his hold momentarily and slipped into the bed beside her, "...This won't happen again."

"We were outplayed and outwitted, nor can you predict every assault we'll face. I'm thankful you came as quickly as you did." Elia murmured.

"...Being too slow cost Godwyn his life." Radagon said, "I shan't see that failure repeat itself-"

Elia heaved a sigh and tugged Radagon down by the collar, pulling him close with a surprisingly strong grip as her lips met his for a long moment before she drew back. "You didn't fail me. Dare I say that I would be in a worse world of hurt if Morgott had managed his escape attempt."

Radagon stared at her like a gaping fish, slowly nodding with a newfound warmth in his cheeks as he cradled her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips with a tentative kiss, "Thank you."

"Your welcome…do you know precisely how long I was out? A few hours at least?" Elia questioned, letting Radagon draw her close to rest against his chest. He winced and shook his head, "...Closer to a day rather. Thus far, Godwyn, Malenia, and Radahn have cross examined Morgott. Sellen has kept him sedated through draughts, and even then he stays under constant guard."

"...I'd like to speak with him." Elia murmured.

"Accompanied with an escort. " Radagon ground out, "I don't want that thing laying a hand on you or any other knight here."

"Then come with me," she lightly smacked his chest with a huff, "I hardly think people would raise their eyebrows at my husband keeping me company."

Radagon's eyes widened a fraction, " Very well. Someone needs to keep close to you with Millicent on the mend ."

"...Is she alright?" Elia questioned with a faint tremor in her voice, settled only by Radagon angling her to face him.

"Sellen patched her up within the hour," Radagon explained, "She's safe, but with a very wounded sense of self I believe… I have no intention to duel you again, but would you resume training sessions once more?"

Elia nodded, "..I trust us much more to keep the peace now than before. Yes…" she mulled her words carefully and sighed, "I never tried to apologise to you then, for keeping you in the dark about Fia's rune. I'm sorry."

"It is forgiven. Just don't attempt something foolhardy again without my help, please." Radagon murmured, and finally dared to steal a kiss for himself as he splayed his hand over Elia's back to keep her close.

Radahn wrenched Morgott forward by the front of his shirt, "The last I saw of you, it was as Margitt the Fell."

"General, you're shorter than when I last saw thee." Morgott's grin was a feral and disdainful thing as he chuckled. Radahn's grip tightened as he ground out, "It was stupid to mount an attack on these grounds. What was the aim, to behead the

Tarnished and claim the ring? The Erdtree would shine its light upon you and deem you a worthy successor for Godhood, hmn?!"

"I only need the woman to die. What becomes of me matters little, grace does not belong in the hands of a wretch seducing Lords and tainting the ring." Morgott grimaced, earning a withering look from Radahn as he dropped the omen.

"A man on a suicide mission to atone for his ominous birth? Morgott your notions of this woman are as ill founded as your belief in the remnants of this order." Radahn shook his head and knelt to peer at eye level with his half brother, "...Do you even yet understand the truth of Marika and my father?"

"What left is for me to know, beyond him being weak of will and pliant to a maiden?" Morgott shook his head, "Spare me the explanation, kill me and end this debacle."

"No." Radahn sighed, "Father would sooner claim that task for attacking Elia. He's pliable to her certainly, but the proper details aren't those of a seduction. He twisted her arm into this marriage, she's only managed to adapt to it and coax him into compliance. It's funny really, like taming a half feral animal into domesticity."

"Forgive me for not being as amused by this mess as you are, General. What is this grand revelation of Marika and Radagon that you demand me to hear?" Morgott leaned against the wall of his cell, trying in vain to ignore the painful throb of his broken horns.

"To be far less articulate than Father- he and Marika are two parts of the same whole. They were each other once, and father grafted the ring onto a tarnished to keep Marika out of power. For fair reason, when Godwyn died and her will slipped, she shattered the ring to end it all." Radahn crossed his arms, gauging Morgott's reaction.

"...Thine lies are a pitiful concoction." Morgott hissed, "Do not play me for a fool, Radahn. Radagon was a champion who loathed Marika, how would he war with his own flesh?"

"I don't understand it on a deeper level. Those are questions for him to answer, not I."

Sellen nearly choked on her tea when Boggart barged into her office, paler than usual and bracing his hands on her desk as he confessed, "...I think my sour omen friend was the one who stabbed Elia?" "...Explain, quickly," Sellen scowled.

"Was he a pissy fellow with a crown of horns and hulked over most folk, speaks like a lord?" Boggart sighed as dread built in his stomach. Sellen held her face in her hands, letting loose a string of curses as she stood.

"T-that explains how he slipped into the academy - how did he not seem suspicious to you?!" She hissed, "You're no fool Boggart…was Morgott that accomplished an actor?"

"I dunno…he just seemed pitiful, hungry and standoffish. He was harmless to me, and liked prawns." He admitted.

"Morgott slipped past wards, hexes, and guards, because he enjoyed prawns ?!" Sellen threw her hands in the air and leaned over the table, "How is that a suitable measure of someone's character!"

"It's never failed me til now, Lady." Boggart grumbled, "Can I see him?"

"...Why in the stars would you wish to do that?" Sellen muttered in disbelief.

"He was my friend. I'd like to pick his brain a little, see what made him go crazy to do something that stupid." Boggart shrugged, "Have any of you gotten him to talk?

"No, he's obstinate and just driven to kill my pupil. Only Radahn and Godwyn wrung a conversation from him." Sellen sighed,

"...Come with me, if you want to speak with Morgott, you do it under my watch."

Midmorning Respite

Elia woke to sunlight spilling into her quarters, illuminating the swirling motes of dust through the parted drapes.. Her form was still sore, but warmer with her back to Radagon's chest as he dozed. A strong arm held her in place just under her bust and her legs were tangled with Radagon's, a knee managing to have wedged between her thighs as they dozed. She fought the instinct to roll her hips, and shivered at the sensation of skin against skin.

She swallowed hard and kept still, her dress a thin garment and with the hearth's dying embers, her nearest heat source was the man collapsed against her with his face tucked against her shoulder. Stars help her, was this how he held Rennala during their marriage?

Elia exhaled sharply and attempted to slink out of his hold as she gingerly lifted his arm, only to be snared around the waist by the other as she cursed under her breath. She glared over her shoulder, "You're as terrible as me when it comes to latching onto a soft partner."

She nearly yelped when teeth nipped her shoulder in warning, and golden eyes cracked open, "Go back to sleep."

"...How long have you been awake?" Elia whispered, her face burning as she tightly gripped the arm around her waist.

"Mn, five minutes? You squirm a good deal." Radagon muttered, pressing his brow to her shoulder as his other arm settled over her chest. The motion closed any remaining distance between them, and her skin felt hot at the contact.

She sighed, "I grant you one kiss and now I'm clutched like a pillow."

"Do you want me to let go?" He asked.

Her silence was damning, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the bite he left, "I thought as much." He murmured, "Get some rest, we'll have much to smooth over today regarding Morgott."

Elia nodded, turning over to face him and burying her face into his chest with a soft exhale, "Tit for tat, Radagon." She closed her hands over his shoulders, clinging tightly.

Her breath was hot against his sternum, and he slowly nodded as he raked his hands through her hair, "Fair enough, grackle."

In the waning hours of the early morning, they laid there in tentative peace and Elia was only somewhat certain his hand lingered over her backside in passing. She stole another hour of sleep with her cheek resting atop her husband's chest, the pair left in peace until a sharp knock tapped at their door.

Morgott came back into consciousness when the sorceress entered his cell once more, the collar over his throat harsh in its pull to keep him still, "Here to sedate me again, witch?"

"I brought a visitor, Omen." Sellen grimaced, beckoning Boggart inside, "...You have half an hour at most, make it count." She murmured to the merchant as she squeezed his shoulder. The gesture's implication was not lost on the prisoner.

"...This is the mage thou favours?" Morgott furrowed his brows at Boggart, "Better yet, why hath thou chosen to visit, Boggart?"

The man sighed and approached the bars, "Yeah, she is. I'm more worried about the stunt you pulled. Why? You're not stupid mate. How was this plan ever going to work in your mind?" Boggart pressed, "Apparently her lover beat the piss out of you- took off some horns from what I can see-"

"Enough of thine prattle!" Morgott hissed, "Perhaps it matters not to thee, but blasphemy of the highest order is not something I can allow to persist."

"Even if it gets you beaten into the dirt? You were happy for the few days you spent just idling about. You really want to fight til you drop dead, Morgott?" Boggart spoke his name for the first time, his voice imploring.

"...You don't wish me dead?" The omen stared, "I attacked thy benefactor?"

"So have dozens in the land. She has plenty who'd fight for her and won't die so easily. I don't think you have many who want you alive. I get that, I was a sod meant to rot in jail and prayed my corpse wouldn't get ravaged by the Dung Eater." Boggart said, "I dunno the lot in life an omen has, but it's a harsh one I don't think you earned."

"...Dost thou beseech me to make amends and recant my transgressions?" Morgott grimly asked.

"No. I just want to know why you took on a suicide mission, when you clearly have a drive to live." Boggart sighed.

"...I did have a fleeting hope of success, if the woman wouldn't die here, it would have been a retreat with her in tow. I would have left her for the Greater Will to deal with within the Erdtree."

"...What could a burnt tree do to imprison someone?" Boggart furrowed his brow.

"It is a domain beholden to the Greater Will's most direct will and influence, if it held Marika, it would hold Elia." Morgott said.

Boggart tensed, "...abandon that plan mate, please."

"Give me a reason why?" Morgott quietly asked, peering at Boggart with a weary expression.

"...I can teach you how to trade and haggle, it's not a grand life, but it's better than fightin' and dyin' for some unseen god." Boggart muttered, "I don't want my friend dead."

"...Thou art more forgiving than most." Morgott murmured, neither denying or accepting the proposal, simply contemplative, "I thank thee for seeing me, Boggart."

Rennala lingered outside the chamber door with a worried expression. The girl had been out of it for a day, and her absence only worsened the lingering anxieties of the academy's occupants. Thus it was a faint relief to hear Elia's voice carry through the oaken door, "W-Who is it?"

"Tis I child, Rennala. Are you faring well?" The queen called over, brows furrowed at her stutter.

Silence lingered for several moments, before a harsh thud hit the floor and footsteps bolted across the room in a frenzy. Stars help her, what had the girl in such a frenzy? Rennala wrung her wrists, and cocked her head as the door slowly inched open. She peered up at Radagon's blank expression, the man looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Hair askew and unbraided in a rare sight, he seemed out of sorts to see Rennala this early, and muttered, "...She needs a moment to be presentable."

"...Tis fine, thou kept watch over her?" Rennala glanced into the room with growing skepticism.

"I did…she flushed out the last of the taint in her blood with her fever. I trust that your talk with Radahn went well?"

Rennala nodded, "..T'was nice to behold my son once more. Thou will be pursuing Rykard soon?"

"We will." Radagon nodded, casting a sidelong glance to Elia as she rushed over, a loose shirt and trousers tugged on in her haste.

"Good morning, my lady." Elia murmured, dipping her head to Rennala. Elia was as disheveled as Radagon, and the redness of her throat was telling when Rennala's gaze swept over the Tarnished. The Queen sucked in a tight breath between her teeth, the realization unpleasant but not one to wage a war over. Radagon was not hers, and the trappings of marriage left this route as a tangible possibility.

She nodded to Elia then, "...Good morning, I only wished to see that you were recovering at a steady pace, Elia. Radagon," her tone sharpened, "What is to be done with the Omen?"

"..That outcome depends entirely on him. Elia and I are to confront him today at the latest. He hasn't been forthright to most of his visitors yet. " Radagon sighed.

"Sellen brought the prawn merchant to see him…Big Boggart was his name?" Rennala held her chin as she pondered how he took on that name.

"...How would Boggart make Morgott's acquaintance?" Elia muttered. Her friend was standoffish and strange in his judgment, but reliable as he was honest. She was keen to know how the association between Merchant and Omen came about.

Boggart would not be the last guest Morgott received that morning. He recognized the hat before he caught sight of Ranni's face. There stood the witch, hands anxiously clasped as she was ushered in with that ever loyal wolfen brother of hers.

"...Princess, what brings thee here?" Morgott furrowed his brows, unsure if this was to be a beating or a lecture.

"Thou turned this academy into a battleground, why?" Ranni sat on a stool across from him, her one eye narrowed, "Thou seemed peaceful and content to wander the halls, until your conflict with the Tarnished arose?"

Morgott sighed, it was a lecture then, "Thy tarnished was a woman I fought numerous times in her journey, many of her ilk know what I am. An unerring guard to halt their assault on the Golden Order. I was the last King of Leyndell…until I was bested in combat."

"Whence given a second chance at life, thou spends it so frivolously in vengeance?" Ranni questioned, "I fail to see the wisdom of that act."

"You and thy siblings were all traitors in some fashion, what would thou understand of duty?" Morgott grimaced, "I tire of these visits, have thine father make haste and kill me than bore me with your prattling."

"So be it." Ranni moved to stand, "...Tis a pity to live a life forever as a pawn. Is it a life at all?"

The chamber was deathly silent as Ranni made her exit, and Morgott let his head fall back against the brick wall of his cell, "...Thou had a choice in thine fate. I did not." he muttered to naught else but the air.

The walk down to the cells was conducted in tense silence, Elia gripped Radagon's arm as they walked, alone and unaccompanied until they took the lift down into the damp and frigid cells. He glanced sidelong to her and murmured, "Do you want me to do this myself?"

She shook her head, "If you're left alone with Morgott, I don't think he'll survive the day."

"Correct." Radagon deadpanned, "He's a loathsome man."

"Don't. With as many questions as we have, we need him alive for the moment." She grimaced.

"Woman he ran you through with a sword and had aims to kidnap you when you proved too durable to kill." Radagon would have gladly seen Morgott executed by morning. Knowingly or not, the omen's jab struck deeply, and if he was willing to kill for Marika, he could just as easily die for her.

"I know…I was lucid enough to feel the vertigo and his hands on me." Elia muttered darkly.

The conclusion to her fight with Morgott was an unsettling one from her waning perspective.

Gnarled hands had closed over her legs and slung her over the omen's shoulder with little care, digging painfully into her stomach. It had been easy for flesh to knit together like a mended tapestry, her organs had been another matter entirely as her abdomen was still aflame in nauseous throbs of pain. Morgott's strength was paralleled by only Radahn and Radagon, and his hold was like that of iron, even if Elia had the breath or lucidity to thrash and fight. The only saving grace was the lingering bleed and poison inflicted by Lacero.

Morgott's stride was slow, stunted and staggered as he felt the acidic sting of venom circulate into his bloodstream. Like a cornered beast, he sought the clearest path of escape as he bolted for the railing, and Elia's vision swam with the taste of blood in her mouth. Morgott's blood burned like an infection in her body, not unlike Mohg's tainted blood magic. Radagon had been imposing to battle, yet never had he made her helpless in her own body, robbed of the capacity to fight entirely than just a hand over her throat or pinning her.

There had been an immediate sense of relief when she felt Morgott's hold on her slip, and Radagon had pulled her free. It went unnoticed in the haste of his battle, the weak grip of her hands taking fistfuls of his shirt for purchase. The last moments she recalled were being handed off to Millicent, and was dead to the world until she awoke to Radagon's pacing.

He shook her shoulder to pull her from her thoughts. They had arrived.

In the Hall of the Omen King

Malenia had been the one to keep watch over Morgott today, peering up to see Radagon enter with the Tarnished at his side.

"...Has he said anything of note today?" Radagon questioned Malenia in passing.

" "Unfortunately no. He was visited by Ranni and the prawn merchant this morning, however, they seemed more civil than his shouting match with Radahn." Malenia informed and glanced at Elia, "...Is it wise to have her here? He'll be incensed and aggravated."

"That matters little to me." Radagon grimaced as he stepped inside the cell block.

Morgott was in a light doze, quiet and his mind foggy from the monotony of the cell. Its one saving grace was that it lacked the stench of Leyndell's sewers. Soon any fleeting contentment for his momentary state bled from his mind when he cracked open his eyes, and saw that cursed mane of red, and the mismatched eyes of the Tarnished.

"...Elden Lord, and Tarnished, what honor is this?" Morgott rested his cheek in his palm, apathetic in the face of his executioner,

"Thou finally recovered from a small dosage of omens blood, Tarnished? Tell me, were thine wounds or the fever worse?"

The color bled from Elia's face as she hissed, "Your hands on me was the worst thing to recall, Morgott."

"I've little reason or inclination to show thou reverence, Tarnished." Morgott ground out, bristling as he clenched his fists. Yet another pretty immortal balking at his monstrosity was nothing new, yet her condemnation stung and bordered upon infuriating.

He needn't possess beauty to be a better creature of grace than she. He exhaled sharply through the nose and glowered at Radagon, "Am I to die now, Radagon?"

Radagon hadn't uttered a word yet, studying Elia's tense posture and wariness, raking his eyes over Morgott's defeated form.

"No. Despite the temptation to see your head roll, I have questions for you." He finally spoke after a pregnant pause. Morgott narrowed his eyes.

"...You stood vigil for centuries over Leyndell. Was it by the grace of the Greater Will that you were revived?" Radagon pressed.

"Like thine own children, yes. Every shardbearer seems to have been given a final miracle to surmount your bride." Morgott's words were harsh and transparent.

"Yet you are the only one to stage an assassination attempt." Radagon grimaced.

"So it appears. I have a question for thee, Elden Lord." Morgott lifted his head, "Was the General truthful, thou and my mother are of the same flesh and soul?"

Radagon bristled, gripping the bars of the cell with a deepening scowl, " Thus you understand the gravity of your insult. Yes, Marika grafted me from her flesh as her other half."

"...Yet thou sired children outside of her will, usurped her, and took another wife. How does thine will surmount Marika?" Morgort asked.

"I am her equal, regardless if she intended otherwise. Any submission to her was transactional for the safety of my children. There is an irony in you remaining steadfast to a woman with few loyalties beyond her firstborn. Do you know who broke the ring, Morgott? " Radagon's smile was a dangerous thing, the truth poised as a knife to gut the omen's worldview.

"...Who did it, if not you?" Morgott furrowed his brow, having suspected the King of treason since his revival.

Radagon's laugh was a rare sound, ugly and harsh as the bark of a wolf in that instant, "By Marika's own hand, did the shattering ensue. She was as fallible as any of us, Morgott, and is not worth your worship. Honor your mother, but not your goddess."

The omen's chains went taut as he lunged forward, and the links snapped under the sudden strain. The force of his shoulder ramming the cell bars dented them into obtuse shape, Morgott's horns painfully scoring Radagon's face with the gashes they left. The omen tangled his hands into Radagon's hair and wrenched the man forward against the bars, "Thy lies are as pitiful as thine failure to protect the order!"

Radagon hissed and glowered with his remaining eye as he bodily kicked Morgott back into the cell with a hiss, "If you would rather rot in delusion, I can happily send you back to the god that abandoned you-"

The shift that occurred was fleeting, gold bleeding from Radagon's roots as a lighter voice spilled from his lips, "Bind him, judge him, but do not kill my son. Please."

Gold eyes were desperate and pleading before Radagon gripped a fistful of his hair, feeling sick and disoriented as he whispered, "S-Stay quiet, and out of my body…" Red overtook the fleeting shocks of gold in his mane, and Elia tugged Radagon away from the bars with a hitch in her breath, knowing with grim certainty who puppeteered her husband for a precious few moments.

Elia shouted for the guards then, trembling as she stared at Morgott with newfound fear for what his presence could elicit from Marika.

"...Leave me be, Tarnished. Enjoy thy pilfered spoils." Morgott grimaced at Radagon, the fight gone from his form and voice. The Elden Lord was hunched and nauseous, his mind dazed as Elia compelled him to lean onto her. She dragged him out of the cell as the garrison flooded into the room to survey the damage.

Radagon was walked from the dungeons in a daze, thankful for the support Elia provided with what he realized was a tall and strong stature for a woman not of godly descent. Such a quaint fact to overlook, when she skirted six feet in height and was dwarfed only by Rennala and Malenia.

He tightened his hold on her shoulder, murmuring, "...You quarters, we should…we should make haste," he mumbled.

Elia nodded with a soft sigh, shouldering what she could of his weight as she guided him up into the lift. The remainder of their walk was a slow one, the man wasn't quite all there in the head as he was led, a fact that unnerved Elia greatly. It reminded her of Rennala's muffled association with reality in the early days of rehabilitating the queen, and Radagon even his most emotive and rage filled moments had never lapsed in his lucidity. Always as sharp and alert as the wolfen sentries he left to prowl the academy once upon a time, to see him in a fog was jarring, and Elia only hoped sleep could help alleviate the worst of it.

When she finally tugged him along towards her bed, he was a deadweight when he collapsed into the sheets, save for his grip over her arm as he mumbled, "...Will you stay?"

Elia nodded, and his vice grip slackened as he slumped into unconsciousness. She held Radagon tightly in her arms, his head resting atop her lap as she sat with him. In the quiet of her chambers, and the cold sweat beading down his brow, she did what she could to calm him.

It was a language that wouldn't have registered in his ear. A dialect too far removed from Marika's mother tongue as Elia sang the fragmentary lullaby Megathirio would have hummed to her when she was small.

Morgott bore no satisfaction in goring Radagon's face, nor seeing his bride panicked and quick to flee the scene before the cell could be further demolished. Malenia was the one tasked to rebind him, the grip of her metal hand bruising as the Valkyrie refastened his shackles.

"...What was there to gain, Omen?" she asked, her voice tensed as she withdrew from Morgott.

"I managed to get thine father to fuck off finally." he countered, "Tis accomplishment enough for me."

"What happened, for him to be dragged out of here dazed and sick? Elia may be feeble, but he is not." Malenia muttered, hands on her hips as she studied her prisoner.

"...I heard my mother's voice leave him." Morgott whispered. It was undeniable proof of their unnatural duality. He felt sick, and realized now, perhaps the Tarnished hadn't possessed the means to unseat Marika herself.

"Do you understand the truth now?" she asked, discomforted by the notion of Marika rearing her head if even for an instant.

"...I do, princess. I do." he shook his head, "Am I still slated to die?"

"I don't know, Morgott." Malenia finally spoke his name, "A mother's will isn't so easily dismissed, even against my father. Do not stage another attack like that again, it won't end well, even if he keeps you alive." She uttered, stern and unyielding.

"Fine. Now leave me be, I do not need to be handheld by my own jailer, Malenia." The Omen King replied evenly. Malenia gave a simple nod, and left him with his thoughts as the door was bolted shut.

As the chaos of the dungeons unfolded, Godwyn had waited long enough. He knew it was selfish to keep Fia close, even as Elia had been wounded and cloistered away to recover, yet he needed her near for what was to come. It was time to face Ranni.

"...Will you accompany me, my lady?" He asked her that morning, having risen early and met her once more in their usual corner of the garden, now in chaos from Morgott's battle. Radagon was occupied, the Academy's focus elsewhere. A private audience would not be so easily attained at another time than now.

"I would, I worry that if you went alone, violence would be the path that you sought." Fia confessed, and Godwyn nodded. He wouldn't deny a well founded fear, and clasped her hand gently as he spoke, "Thank you."

The pair walked the halls hand in hand, having narrowed down Ranni's location to the auxiliary library near the west wing of the academy. Quiet, out of the way, and secluded from the Astral Wing to the north. When the doors were pushed open, the doll peered up from her book, Blaidd's hand reaching for his sword, "Who approaches?" "Godwyn." the prince stated, leveling an even look towards his sibling.

Ranni raised a hand to stay Blaidd's aggression, eye narrowed and snapping her tome shut, "...You do still live." she whispered.

"I pray that you have an explanation for your failed plot, Ranni."

"It was an age ago, and when I recall I still see it true," she spoke softly, "...The price to slake off my flesh would be one paid in blood, to nullify thee and thy mother. What intervention raised thee from the grave, Godwyn?"

"...Fia the deathbed companion, aided by the Tarnished to lay with me - that is the ritual that allowed me to inhabit a body once more." Godwyn stepped forward, dusk eyes narrowed with the disdainful curl of his lip, "Was it that transactional, to have me killed?"

"Is it so surprising? We were all bartered for by divine intervention… and still will be if Elia cannot cement a new order. I do not apologize, I sought out liberation and one life was a fair price in my view." Ranni whispered, "...Nothing else would have toppled a goddess."

"You would know well how a mother breaks at the loss of family. Rennala certainly crumbled with ease-" Ranni's hand stung against his cheek.

"My mother's name shall never leave your mouth, death-bound wretch!" Ranni's voice hit a sharp note, her doll's face unable to capture the rage her voice conveyed.

"...Know that only my word given to Elia and Fia is why I don't act on the instinct to run you through, and to see you dealt the same fate I was. …Radahn would never forgive me if I attacked you ." Godwyn grimaced.

"Why hath thou come here, to mock me and posture?" Ranni glowered.

"...I had a lingering hope you were a reluctant agent, or hadn't hoped to see the world burn. I was wrong."

Marika, in spite of her intrusion, was terribly calm when she faced Radagon, "...I understand I overstepped. Yet heed mine words, Morgott is not a boy deserving of death."

"...Your son nearly made off with my wife. Am I to let that stand when he refuses to compromise?" Radagon grimaced, "Wounded her, attacked the closest place to a home we have at present, need I go on?!"

"No." Marika grimaced, "...Keep him alive, is all I ask of you."

"I am not his father, I did not condemn him to the path that irrevocably radicalized him into an agent of the Golden Order."

"...Raise a hand to him and I will make your mindscape a living hell, and do unto your bride whatever harm befalls my son." Marika cooly retorted, "You've defended her from him, never cross that line into an assault… I truly wish I had shown more defiance, and never heeded the Greater Will's testament to shackle him and Mohg. Godwyn…he would have kept them safe, kept Mohg from turning down the path that he did."

Radagon stared, it was a rare and distant time when Marika had allowed herself to be this emotionally bare, "...Keep him under control, when you have your own body to inhabit."

"I cannot promise to keep him subdued, but I will guide him as I should have so long ago." Marika nodded, "Will you honor your word, spare him?"

"For now. Yes." Radagon relented, "Swear to never control my body again."

"...For whatever my word is worth, I swear to respect your wish."

The Lovers

Chapter Notes

We're in explicit territory now folks. Its after Fia amd Godwyn's chat as the last scene if one wants to avoid it

Radagon blearily awoke late into the evening, reaching blindly into the sheets for Elia with a low groan as his splitting headache still persisted. She had her back to him as she stoked the hearth, hair unbound and once more in a nightdress. So deep in contemplation was she, that his footsteps went unheard until he clasped her hand.

"Are you alright?" He murmured as his chin rested atop her head, an arm draped over her waist.

Elia leaned into his chest with the languid ease of a cat, "I am…Morgott didn't so much as graze me."

"Good," Radagon exhaled in relief, "...Come back to bed with me?"

Elia nodded, "Of course…is everything alright in the brainpan?"

Radagon winced, "...Marika has a firm stance of keeping Morgott alive…and a plan has taken shape I will need help with." He muttered.

"You need only ask. What do you need to do, Radagon?"

Radagon lacked the confidence to lift her, but he did kiss her throat as he pulled her back into the sheets, "...I want her out of my mind…and I trust her intentions as a mother to want to live on for her sons. Thus, she needs a new body. When we arrive in Nokron, I need a mimic tear."

Elia had gone bug eyed, "...Wait a moment. Would this not parallel how she brought you into existence?"

"You are correct. In a mild display of irony, divesting her from my flesh will mimic the process of my creation." Radagon mused, grounded by the warmth of another form against his.

"...With the rune of the unborn, I could help you, we both have a sense of what she looks like." Elia offered as she peered up to her husband.

He sent her a grateful smile, his lips brushing her brow whilst his hand idly traced patterns across her bare thigh. It was not a sight wasted on him, her dress hiked up when she was tugged onto his lap. His breath hitched sharply when Elia's teeth broke the skin of his shoulder, gentler than when she had bitten his hand.

"Grackle, what are you doing," he tightened his grip over her thigh in warning.

"Revenge for this morning, is all." Her grin turned shiteating as she reclined against his chest, keen to get his mind off of heavier affairs tonight.

Radagon was eager to return her teasing, slipping a hand under her knee and lifting her leg with surprising boldness. She only thanked her luck for locking the door lest someone walk in on Radagon nipping her calf and her smalls seen as plain as day.

Face flushed, she yipped when his weight shifted and he held her wrists in a loose grip over her head.

"It does you no favors to be coy with me, Elia." His voice was terribly smug, "What is it you crave from me?"

She pointedly parted her thighs with raised brows, "The same as you, unless you just love to admire my legs to the finest of deta- ah!"

Her back hit the mattress when Radagon shifted to loom over her, and she peered up to her husband with an audible hitch in her breath. Red hair fell around them in a scarlet curtain, his hand cupping her thigh as the other thumbed at the collar of her nightdress. Gold eyes raked over form with a hot and heavy exhale as he spoke slowly, "Explicitly, Elia. What do you want from me tonight?"

Despite every idle want of the past few weeks rearing its head, he wouldn't act without her express consent to consummate their marriage. What he would give to have her singing in bliss, her skin flushed and form writhing. Radagon stilled when her thighs hiked over his hips, and she took his face in her hands, "I want all of you, if you have the energy tonight, Radagon." He shivered as her hands skimmed down his chest to loosen the laces of his tunic. He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, whispering, "I do."

He let Elia divest him of his tunic before he thumbed at her nightdress, "Do you care if this gets damaged?"

Her face reddened as she shook her head. Radagon chose the expedient option of removing her garment, buttons popping loose as the bodice was ripped and parted under his grip.

Godwyn had left Ranni after a rather short visit, the first and last he intended to make. Now more than ever did he see the temptation of agreeing to a partnership with the assassin that sought him out, only to even the odds against a hateful girl. Yet he had other matters to see too. Word traveled fast along the academy's grapevine and Morgott had once again sown more chaos.

As he strode down to the dungeons, he glanced at Fia, "...Are you certain that you wish to see him, knowing what he tried to do?"

"I do," Fia's tone was even, her glare focused ahead, "He laid hands upon my friend, I will see him and judge him accordingly for that act and his reasons. …You have a fondness for him as your brother?"

"I do." He nodded, " ...I only ask that you see him as a man, not as an omen with the connotations of that term."

"I am not of this land or country, he is simply Morgott to me. The stranger that attacked a woman in the dead of night." Fia crossed her arms as she stared him down.

"...I won't dispute that." Godwyn pinched his brow with a soft sigh.

The lift settled with a hard thunk, and the pair stepped off hand in hand, unaware that they were the second couple to greet Morgott in a united front.

The omen lifted his eye to peer at them with a sigh, relieved to see Godwyn at least, yet he did not recognize the waif on his arm.

Twas his brother after all, it was fitting he found a consort yet again. Morgott's voice was almost pleasant despite his shit mood, "Godwynn…and lady."

Fia blinked at Morgott's formal tone, "...You were the stranger to attack my friend, no?"

His expression soured immediately, "Yes, I did. Thine Tarnished and I have a history of battle… she's in no true danger if she has that man guarding her night and day."

Fia swallowed hard, needing to voice no question as to who Elia had taken an ever increasing liking to. She shook her head, "...Was it for faith or vengeance?"

"...Twas for both, Lady Consort. Please, these are redundant questions that have been asked of me for days. You need only know I followed the ordinance of the greater will to kill or seal thy fledgling goddess." Morgott hated how those words tasted like bile, to acknowledge the ill gotten glory of a tarnished.

"I didn't expect mercy from Radagon when he visited you. What force stayed his hand?" Godwyn asked then.

"...Our mother. Radahn…that bastard did not lie to me, despite my hopes." Morgott wrapped his tail around himself with a tight sigh.

"...I'm sorry this was how you learned that truth." Godwyn sent the omen an apologetic look.

"Twas necessary, I needed evidence, and it was spat at my feet." Morgott murmured, "...I will be fine down here, incarceration is as familiar to me as a bird takes to flight, brother."

He never had the chance to address his sibling so directly, it was a novelty he hoped he could use in the time he had. Godwyn gripped the dented bar with the soft shake of his head, "...Morgott, would you be negotiable to serving someone. Not Elia, nor Radagon."

The omen tensed, "...What did thou have in mind, Godwyn?"

"...I've been killed once, I won't tempt fate a second time." the prince murmured, "Would you enter my service, as a knight and warrior?"

Fia set her jaw, knowing full well the ploy at play here, "...Under your watch you want the noose to loosen."

"I do." Godwyn nodded, "And I want to finally know the brother I was robbed of."

"...Propose thine plan. I won't hold my breath, but if by some miracle it works…I would be content to serve by the branch of my family free from sin." Morgott relented as he rested his brow to his knees.

A hand was extended through the bars, and Godwyn sent a tentative smile to his surviving brother. Morgott's arm shook as his gnarled hand gently clasped Godwyn's fair and pale one.

"We have an accord." Godwyn's voice was gentle in that statement, and Morgott dipped his head, before his breath hitched sharply as he was tugged forward. Not onto a knife or to be hit, but to be embraced.

Unfamiliar with the gesture, he simply stood there, not bucking from Godwynn's hold as he sighed, the tension bleeding from his shoulders.

"...I pray you find success, Brother."

Fia cast a lingering look to Godwyn, "...Is behavior like this what earned you the love you held in your last life, my lord?"

"Mayhaps. I simply want my family, what's left of it, to live. The only justice I have to reap is by living well…and keeping Ranni in check." He muttered.

"The general may be key to that, as he arrests the movements of the stars once more, knowingly or not."

"He will be…but I can't implore him to act against Ranni outright, she's his flesh and blood. I only need him to understand my caution." Godwyn mused, "...Will you help me present this outcome to Elia, or no. I understand if you don't wish to be involved."

"...She does hold you in high esteem, Godwynn. Make your case to her, you may be surprised that she's more receptive than Radagon. She's been mired in death for a long swath of her life, Morgott won't rouse anything beyond a transient state of caution and injury…as much as I am loathe to say it, she has suffered worse, and did so when Melina died and as Millicent hovered over the brink." Fia murmured, "Sellen and Radagon will be your opposition. Use logic and repentance as your talking points to haggle with the sorceress…Radagon is pliable to one set of hands, and we know he can be handled by Elia these days."

"...Caelid did bring those two closer." Godwyn held his chin in thought, not one to manipulate…but he needed to pull the levers that he could if he wanted his brother treated with the dignity and chances he deserved, "Convince Elia and the two have to capitulate. Sellen loves her pupil dearly. Radagon is a man starved of intimacy, he won't make the same mistake to drive her away as he did in Leyndell again. It's a positive enough development…but what are your sentiments on that development, Fia?"

"...I hold no pretense that she was mine to keep. If he steps a toe out of line however, becomes a tyrant, she won't be wanting for another consort for long." Fia ground out in a rarely heard tone that was firmer than steel, "That is my view Godwyn. She protected me, I will do the same for her by what measure I can, as companions do."

The prince swallowed hard, "...Understood, my lady."

Radagon had remarkably calloused hands for a monarch. It was telling he'd been a craftsman and architect once, if the hammer wasn't an obvious symbol of that skill. Elia realized those crucial details as he palmed her exposed breast with an appreciative

hum.

Her nightdress cast aside and no better than a rag now, he could see all of her for the first time, scars and toned muscle telling a story of its own. She was beautifully sculpted, and shapely thighs gripped his hips tightly to keep him close. The marks from their last duel still lingered, fading scars that marked her sternum whilst older ones from her first life lingered in scuffed knuckles, the faded lines marking her cheek, claw marks from a wolf that marred her shoulder. All telltale signs that she hadn't been cloistered behind safe city walls all her life. There was comfort in those imperfections, to know she wasn't another perfect icon he would continuously fall short of.

Her breath hitched sharply as he rolled her nipple under the pad of his thumb, his teeth breaking the skin of her shoulder with more force than the teasing bites he tormented her with previously. Perhaps it was a silly thing to do, but there was a simple satisfaction in leaving a mark that would linger, and the groan that left Elia was almost lyrical.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders for leverage, and the impatient grinding of her hips was message enough for Radagon. Ever diligent to please, he slipped two fingers into her folds beneath her smalls, stroking her slowly and methodically with care that rivaled that of a finger reader's articulate motions. Her voice was sweet as a maiden's, and when she hit a pitch liable to draw eavesdroppers, he pulled her into another kiss to stifle the sound.

She took his lower lip between her teeth, hardly enough to draw blood as soft skin split, and the taste of ichor lingered on her tongue. Her hand tangled in his hair roughly, groaning against the kiss as his fingers came away from her folds wet and slick. She was nearly ready, Radagon realized, and circled her sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb. He relished the sight of her coming undone as she saw stars, and slackened in his arms.

"...My dear, you're comparable to art in the heights of bliss." He murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her throat as he leaned back and gently positioned her atop his hips.

Elia braced her hands over his shoulders, her knees straddling his thighs and feeling the length of him brush against her leg. She swallowed hard at the sight below her. A sea of red hair, flushed skin, and eyes that shined with newfound warmth. Was this what it was like to hold the sun as a lover?

He was a far cry from the cold and stone faced visage when they first met, and gently Elia leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear, "Your statues never did your warmth justice, Radagon."

He swallowed hard and replied, "My warmth is a very exclusive thing, Elia." He ached at the thought of her astride his hips, his patience waning as he squeezed her thigh. She shook her head with a soft laugh, and slowly lowered herself. It was a delicate balancing act to take all of him, sweat beaded down her brow when her hips met his. He gave her the time she needed to adjust, large hands gently kneading her thighs and back to help her loosen up until she snatched his hand, and bit his palm with a devilish look.

Radagon took hold of her hips and thrust, shaking his head as his voice swelled a repressed groan, "...Temptress. I finally know what to call you-" he was rudely interrupted as she palmed at his chest showing it the same attention as he had done to hers.

She hastened her pace astride his hips, groaning when his hand clapped her backside in retaliation for the bites she left atop his chest.

It wasn't long, before both found completion in one another's arms. There was an endearing thing about Elia not coming undone with raucous fanfare, but a quietly uttered entreaty resembling his name. She sagged against his chest, spent and languid in the afterglow whilst he finally came undone.

It was quiet for a long while, the lovers unmoving in their embrace.

Brotherhood

Marika seemed to be having a field day when Radagon saw her in the waning hours of his sleep. She sat on her familiar perch of the anvil, the hammer unseen in the dreamscape.

"I didn't think you would actually do it so soon." Marika raised her brows with a small smile, "You had fun I hope?"

"...I did." He muttered, "Why are you concerned with my private life, Marika? You never seemed eager to pry into the derails of my courtship with Rennala."

"These are far different stakes where you fucking around doesn't throw a god into a piss poor mood." Marika pointed out matter of factly, "That and I know how sour you get with a stick up your ass and no maidens to be had. You're quite picky."

Radagon blinked, "...I was expected to be loyal in the confines of marriage. It would be tactless if I'd been found with a pretty knight in my bed."

"You were a king. I had plenty of muses, of which none dared accuse me of taking. Who would risk the ire of a monarch to be pious before God?" Marika sighed, "Poor thing, you've been starved since Rennala."

Radagon shook his head, "We have vastly different wants Marika, simple as that."

Her expression brightened, "Good. It's made that demarcation line ever easier to plot. …Hurry as soon as you can to make my body, and enjoy your dynasty."

"I'm not siring another generation with reckless abandon." Radagon retorted.

"You fell into bed rather quickly," Marika gently reminded him, "Wake up, the day awaits and my sons must be antsy for your bride's judgement."

Elia sat at her desk with braided her fingers together, hands tightly clasped as she recounted what Godwyn had proposed,

"Knighthood. You want Morgott under a conditional release to be your knight?"

The prince nodded, "...I do. What would your terms be for him to be released?"

Radagon stood to her right, eyes narrowed and his expression souring at the notion. He prayed Elia wasn't one to entertain a foolhar-

"He's barred from the academy grounds." Elia spoke, "He remains under your vigil, and will need to seek out his own provisions and lodging within the town or outlying fields. I want him away from me for the time being, any correspondence or materials he needs with the academy can be relegated to an intermediary."

Godwyn stared, and Radagon pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, "You trust the omen to be bound by a pact?"

"I trust him to listen to his brother and honor a bargain whence struck." Elia sighed, "How long before he escapes, if not to attack me, than to undermine you?" She directed the question to Radagon, to which he had little reply.

"...He's free to go then?" Godwyn asked.

"After I speak to him." She nodded, "Then he may leave."

Radagon eyed Elia intently when Godwyn was dismissed.

"...Say it," Elia sighed in resignation. He faced her from across the desk, "Obviously, I think this is a gamble that shouldn't be made."

"Morgott's resignation won't last forever. He's gnawed onto a sense of purpose like a dog to a bone ever since he stewarded

Leyndell and pulverized one tarnished after another. He needs a path to walk, and we don't know the certainty of reviving Marika. Can we afford to keep an omen shackled for months until he snaps or festers? Nor do I think he deserves that fate." Elia said, peering down at her hands.

Radagon sat and reached across the table to hold her wrist, "...You have faith in Godwyn to rehabilitate him?"

"I do, Morgott has a particular reverence for the golden order and lineage, Godwyn most of all if he's been so receptive to his visits." Elia explained, "I'm no judge or executioner to someone who already spent a life in shackles and who reviles his very existence."

Radagon sat in uncomfortable silence before uttering, "He stays away from you and Millicent. Be careful with how you dole out clemency, Elia."

"I will, but I won't be so hardened that amnesty evades my vocabulary. It has found me an unlikely companion before." She reached to cup his cheek, sending him a focused look to speak to her point.

Radagon's face grew warm and while he did not smile, he did kiss palm in acceptance.

Morgott crossed his arms to see Elia without Radagon, but with Godwyn, "...Have thee finally come to a conclusion as to what to do with me, Tarnished?"

"Godwyn proposed the idea, I merely set the terms for your release." She replied flatly, eyeing the bars that had yet to be welded back in place, "...You never harmed those of the village, an adjacent but independent institution of its own community than the

Academy."

Morgott raised a brow, silent and leaned forward, "...They only showed me hospitality. No, they never needed to worry about my judgment falling upon them."

"...Boggart has given a few of his own accounts of you, and context withstanding, still seems fond of you." Elia murmured, "I won't have you remain in the academy cells. You're barred from this institution and live by your own means or the goodwill of your associates. Another assault on the academy, my sister, and my husband or myself will result in me turning you over to

Radagon. Do you understand and accept those terms, Morgott?"

The omen stared back, "...No cutting of my horns, I won't lose a hand a for striking the red king's goddess? I am simply free to walk?"

"Conditionally, yes." Elia nodded, "...Correct me I'm mistaken, but you value your family, and Godwyn's happiness matters more than divine favor?"

Morgott refused to answer that question, "...My mother wants me alive. Is that compelling motive enough, Tarnished?"

Elia didn't press him further, "I wouldn't know, I never had a mother. But we are in agreement on the terms, Morgott?"

A heavy pause lingered, and Morgott grimaced at his shackles, "Yes. I accept thine terms."

"...Thank you." Godwyn spoke with relief clear in his features.

"I don't have a desire to mangle your family more than I already have." She spoke to the prince then, "I'll leave you to it, speak with Boggart about finding lodging for Morgott, the last set of dykes were finally finished and we have a few more acres ready for construction down in the village. He'll know which plots are more viable." Elia lightly patted Godwyn's shoulder in passing, before peering over her shoulder, "Good luck."

The sun was harsh on Morgott's eyes as he was ushered out the Academy gate, and finally, the chains were removed. Rubbing sore wrists, and lacking his weapon, he glanced to Godwyn, "...Thou hath done enough for me already."

"I disagree," the prince clapped his brother's shoulder, "...It may not be a warm reception, but I'd like to find Boggart and meet him properly."

"He's crass, sloppy, and obsessed with fish. Thou may like him, he grew on me as a tumor does. Against my will and discovered with grim surprise." Morgott's exhale was almost a laugh.

"A friend of yours is a friend of mine." Godwyn's smile was earnest, and Morgott understood then in the radiance of the midmorning light how his brother earned the epithet "The Golden".

Their walk into the town carried on in amicable silence, the weight lessening from Morgott's shoulders despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The weight of an omen was something Morgott could never leave, yet he could set it down in the pleasure of Godwyn's company.

The Waning Flame

Scarred hands were anxiously clasped together, a mismatched set of eyes peering at the dimmed and half charred Erdtree that loomed over the ashen swept visage of Leyndell. Melina closed her hands into fists, whispering softly, "I pray that you succeeded, Elia."

The basin lay empty, not even the ashes smoldered as Melina drew in a bracing and chilled breath of the winter air, and for the first time in age, recalled what it was to be flesh and blood. The yoke of death had slipped, in whatever act of grace or mercy, to let her be reconsecrated in a body once more. Melina drew up her hood, and made her way down from the Giant's Flame with the harsh chattering of her teeth against the frigid weather.

Bundled as she was in her cloak, this would be a long trek down into the fairer weather of Leyndell and Limgrave. She had a lingering hunch Elia would not have chosen to settle Leyndell, even for its historic importance as a dynastic seat.

No, her friend had woven Liurnia into her heritage, and never held the capacity to condemn its fall from grace. Ever stubborn, ever devoted, Elia had drawn out her journey to rehabilitate Rennala and make a safe haven of the Academy when the Roundtable had held few friends. Melina knew where she would be, and set her gaze to the southwest.

Volcano Manor had few occupants these days, Rykard had quickly realized. He grimaced at the labor and time it had taken to clear out the dungeons, often with his own spellwork and hands. His home had become an undignified place in his zealotry, a fact he could admit with open eyes and the clarity of mind to be repulsed.

How had Tanith stomached this debacle? He understood the devotion of love, even in his haze he had never laid harm to his bride and perhaps that same love had allowed her to take his shifting nature in stride. She had never seen abuse, and supported him as his family fell away one by one into madness, conquest, or personal ambition. All the same, he marveled to not be left alone and be smothered in the rank remains of the serpent.

Rykard, despite every horror, was a loved man, and he was thankful for that fact. Even as he was left to toss yet another half rotted corpse into the pyres. This manor was a fouled place, once a home of knowledge of the arcane to rival Sellia and Raya Lucaria. He cast a lingering look to one of the few Tarnished still in his court, Diallos.

Rykard hefted another corpse, and spoke to the man, "You left, dodging a gruesome death, only to return aimless and looking for guidance. Why?"

The man flinched under Rykard's direct attention, "...I'd found your daughter, sir."

Rya.

Rykard had been bedridden in the first week of his revival, and heard more information by way of Tanith than anyone else. Rya had been unaccounted for since his death, returned only in the company of a Tarnished brave or stubborn enough to refuse to slay the shaken girl. When he studied Diallos, he saw a pretty and noble man lacking much in the way of personal direction, yet held no shortage of integrity despite his aimless nature.

"...You could have left as soon as Rya returned to her mother. Why stay?" Rykard raised his brow, "This is loathsome work, none of it being done by your hand or your sin to amend for?"

"It is work worth doing, if for her sake?" Diallos replied, "You haven't consumed another Tarnished since…since Elia slew you, no?"

"No. The trappings of this body never presented such a voracious appetite as that of the serpent's." Rykard shook his head, eyeing the empty and stained cells, "We're finished here today…and thank you for your assistance, it is appreciated as greatly as it is unexpected."

"...Your welcome, I…I am curious." Diallos muddled over a question he was unsure he had the right to ask.

"Ask me whatever it is that plagues your thoughts, Diallos." Rykard gave him an approving nod to continue. Diallos flinched, not realizing the Lord remembered his name.

"...You don't consume us any longer, what of the gods?" Diallos finally asked.

Rykard's expression hardened, the face of Marika and his father being amongst the first to come to mind with the meaning of divinity, "I am still ruminating over the notion. The divine constructed a spectacular noose with the Elden Ring, the road to undoing it is a long one that I failed to chart. I would like the outer gods gone, repelled or dead and that may require an inquest into Miquella's work, as reluctant as I am to lean into the musings of a spoiled prodigy." his expression soured at the thought.

Rykard looked to Diallos once more, "...I never have had a chance to properly ask, how did you coax Rya into returning?"

"...She was rightly horrified by what she discovered of her birth, sir. Yet this is her home, a thing few of us Tarnished can claim to have. I asked her, did she want to perish without having confronted her mother about this, to have any sense of closure. Was it worth losing a home, even in spite of such horror."

"...I would have expected more revulsion." Rykard muttered.

"It does disgust me, but we are willing to do many things to feel safe in a world like this." Diallos murmured.

"Your honesty can be commended." Rykard nodded to him, "Come, we've labored enough today."

Diallos watched Rykard carefully as he followed the Demigod.

To say he felt at ease in the man's company would be a lie. He had seen the serpentine corpse when Elia warned him to run, and he understood Rykard hadn't lessened in his ambitions, he had only grown to resent the path he had taken.

The serpent king was a man ruled sooner by logic these days, and if the time came where Diallos was a threat, he would be expunged.

Until that day, Volcano Manor was an unlikely sanctuary, and Rya a friendly face that made the days a bit brighter.

Elia sat with Godwyn and Radahn in the courtyard, the three elbows deep into plotting their next expedition.

"...The more numbers we have to climb Mount Gelmier, the better." Elia murmured.

Godwyn winced, "And leave Morgott unattended for weeks?"

"The fishmonger handles him just fine. Why not? " Radahn crossed his arms, intent to have as many able bodies on hand to confront Rykard. Nor was he keen to see Godwyn left alone with Ranni.

"Take Malenia in my stead-" Godwyn suggested, only for Radahn to furiously shake his head, "Absolutely not."

"...She is the most adept swordsman of us all." Elia pointed out, "I don't want to bring Malenia onto a battlefield in any context, but I won't deny her skill. It's worth asking her…and she may want the time to spend with her father."

Radahn grimaced, "...He's always kept us in line."

"I wouldn't ask you to travel with her if he wasn't the mediating party in this…and the grudge between you two can't last in perpetuity, for your sakes." Elia sighed, not wishing to moralize to them, yet even less willing to have another war unfold.

"She can apologize for her transgressions upon Sellia and Caelid." Radahn ground out, "Until then, I have little interest in reconciliation."

"The bloody tell her that, Radahn." Elia eyed the general, "She can either be held accountable or this festers in silence."

Radahn grimaced, "Fine. I want Ranni and my mother to return home, however, if we will be absent for a few weeks."

Godwyn winced, "...I already spoke to Ranni, and your mother has no quarrel with me. I won't harm them, Radahn."

"...I trust your intent, but this is not something I will leave to chance, Brother. They go home, and you can stand watch over the academy with your lady and the twins." Radahn spoke softly then, "I would be much more at ease knowing Ranni cannot overstep and ignite a fuse."

"I'll give Rennala and Ranni the notice to return home. We've made plans, they settled their matter with me…mostly." Elia sighed, knowing full well a chat alone with the queen would address the subject of her marriage, "Enjoy the time alone with Fia, Godwyn. Just know that she hogs the blankets at night."

The prince's cheeks immediately darkened, "Duly noted."

"Thank you, Elia." Radahn murmured and gently clapped her shoulder. The force was enough to send her stumbling forward with a loud swear, her boot slipping on the damp stone underfoot.

Rennala lowered her wine glass, looking at Elia intently, "...Radahn wants us home for our safety. It is reason enough for me to oblige my son. Yet in thine own words, what conflict lies between Godwyn and Ranni?"

Elia swallowed hard, "...She hasn't told you, has she?"

"No, and the ambiguity is unsettling. Speak freely. What hath she done?" Rennala murmured.

"...Your majesty, she organized Godwyn's assassination, the event that spiraled into the shattering of the Elden Ring." Elia whispered, thankful she was alone with rennala to explain this.

Rennala took Elia's hand and bid her to sit with her on the chaise, "...Tis why thee left her, is it not?"

"Yes." Elia dipped her head, "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this."

"..I cannot blame thee for that." Rennala murmured, "We will be gone by dusk. Yet…allow me to be impertinent?

"Is it about Radagon?" Elia asked, braced and ready for either ire or melancholy from Rennala.

The queen nodded gravely, "...He's become close to you. Is he a functional husband to you these days?"

"Yes, he is." Elia nodded, terribly forthright, "...Its a learning process of its own right, but he has supported me and I him…it's a partnership that could last. He's affectionate when he finally settles into cohabitation."

Rennala held her brow with a tired exhale, "He is. I have already told thee my warnings of him, thou art settled upon him as a consort?"

"...I am." Elia nodded.

"Falling for him is not the hard part." Rennala murmured, "It took three dances upon the field of battle for us to become entwined. It took a singular letter from Marika to end it all."

"Your caution is appreciated and I don't take it lightly. I am however willing to give him a fair chance to be a viable partner." Elia replied, "...I don't expect you to be happy about that fact."

Rennala shook her head, "It is not my affair or business any longer who he consorts with, nor you. It is what it is..and I am hopeful to keep a rapport with Thirio's child."

Elia blinked, "...You remember my father."

"I do, how could I forget the man who perfected our observatory?" Rennala managed a weak smile, "Go on, Elia. You have plenty to attend to and have relayed what Radahn needed of me. Be safe."

Elia rose to her feet with a look of relief. "You as well Rennala. I will write to you when we return with news of Rykard?"

"Please do." Rennala brightened, "I wish to know if he fares well, and would hope to reconcile."

When Elia broke the news in their quarters that evening, Radagon nearly choked on his drink, "Rennala knows?!"

Elia winced, "It was hovering in uncomfortable ambiguity or telling her outright. I chose the latter when she asked. Is she ecstatic? No. She is, however, reasonable." She wrung her wrists, "Are you ashamed, to have it be public knowledge?"

Radagon shook his head, "No. Far from it. …Never have I needed to reconcile being in a new partnership with my public affairs, however, not since Rennala."

Elia stared, "...you never took on a lover despite the hell of your marriage with Marika?"

Radagon groaned into his hands, "Is it such an unbelievable thing for people to grasp that I don't dally outside of my partnerships? Regardless of the strife between me and my given spouse?" He reached to take Elia's hand, peering up at her , "...You and I do have differing perspectives of courtship, informed by vastly different lived experiences. I don't share the same affinity to handle a multitude of lovers as you and Godwyn do, nor has it appealed to me."

She nodded in understanding, draping herself across his lap, "...The golden boy had a knack for collecting lovers?"

"Immensely." Radagon deadpanned, "There is a reason why the Golden Lineage continued and grew thinner until Godrick's ill timing to be of age just as the shattering ensued."

Elia made a face, "The family lore I never sought out."

Radagon chuckled under his breath, drawing her closer as he murmured, "I would be a fool to be ashamed of you, never doubt that." his lips brushed her cheek and Elia nodded with a faint smile, "I won't."

He nodded and pressed his brow to hers. The thought wormed its way into Radagon's mind, would he ever have been compelled to stray from Marika, if he had met his bride sooner? The temptation had arisen before, and he'd understood Elia to be a pretty face within days of them finally not being at one another's throats. With a pang of uncertainty, Radagon realized he may have been more negotiable than anticipated on his word. He had relented within weeks of receiving affection from his wife. If he had been given the opportunity, perhaps he would have chased other options from a failing marriage.

The point was moot, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the bite he had left over her shoulder from the previous night.

"...When do you think we will be ready to leave for Rykard?" Radagon finally asked.

"Before the week is out, Godwyn wants to stay to keep an eye on Morgott, which I agree is a wise decision." Elia murmured, to which her husband nodded, "Radahn will be accompanying us as expected…the variable is Malenia."

Radagon's brows flew up, "I would like her to be present, yet her capacity to tolerate Radahn is limited."

"I know, I nudged him to finally demand the apology he wants out of her. The outcome of that confrontation will decide if she comes with us or stays here." Elia sighed, resting her cheek atop Radagon's shoulder.

"We'll likely know by morning, then. Or when we hear an explosion."

"If she blooms on the academy grounds I'll beat her myself, and Radahn would likely help!" Elia's expression soured at the thought. Radagon rolled his eyes, and rose from the chaise as he slipped her over his shoulder, "Relax and don't stew too much over wild outcomes even you know she wouldn't resort to. Do you need a distraction, Elia?"

"...Maybe."

Pride and Broken Swords

Miquella scowled at the gilded rune Elia had left him before he slid it across the table towards her. It was a maddeningly inert thing, unrelenting to yield its blessing, and meant for a specific and precise purpose. Goldmask had been a strange entity to spawn this thing, and it could only be put to use as a proper warding rune on Elia at this point.

Unalloyed gold would have to persist through its own merits, though the attempt had been worth it to understand a rune in isolation. As it stood, the thing was useless beyond observation.

"This would better be used to safeguard your constitution than to serve my work. Its inert, unresponsive, and enduring as a rune." Miquella mused, picking at the hem of his too short sleeve with idle disdain.

Elia clasped the rune, "...Something I'll need Radagon's help for. Thank you for trying, Miquella."

"Your welcome… you provided detailed maps of Caelid at least, and there isn't any shortage of work to be done." the boy admitted, "You and father don't seem to be feuding these days?"

She shook her head, "We've made amends."

Miquella raised his brows, "You've forgiven him and Morgott rather quickly."

"Him I forgive, Morgott I simply found deserving of clemency." Elia admitted, "An attack from him isn't unexpected, just gruesome to live through. At least your father felt remorse for nearly burning a bridge."

Miquella nodded, and finally dared to ask, "...do you look out for him, as Malenia and Godwyn do for me?"

"Nor in the same sense, but I do try to act in his best interest." Elia nodded.

"Thank you, he needs the helping hand more than he cares to admit." Miquella murmured, "...I also accept your apology."

Elia blinked, staring at him for a moment before muttering, "From Leyndell?"

The boy nodded, "Malenia being alive lessens the sting of what you did, yet that's something you couldn't have done or prepared for. Your words were genuine and I appreciate that."

"I never want to separate you or your siblings from one another again… the most delicate matter at hand seems to be keeping Ranni from incurring Godwyn's rage." Elia said with a wry sigh.

"...My brother is very impassioned at moments," even Miquella didn't deny the possibility of the lunar princess suffering retribution, "Keeping them apart is wise…even if he has the restraint now to not lash out under Rennala's roof. He's due to stay here though, to look after Morgott?"

"He is…which begs the question if Malenia will accompany us if Radahn can make peace with her."

Miquella winced, "A far fetched hope. If by some miracle she accompanies you, I want to follow."

Elia froze, biting her tongue before she could say something inadvertently demeaning, "...We're going to Volcano Manor."

"You plucked me from Mohg's altar of debauched bloodletting. I have seen worse than Rykard's madness." Miquella retorted, "I look the part yet remember, I am no child, Elia."

"...Fair enough, I apologize for insinuating otherwise." Elia relented, "I just want you safe. Radagon certainly seems to dote upon you the most as a father with the same wish."

Miquella's cheeks burned, "I-I know my father's tendencies. You needn't be a mother hen, I could toss you both with a little cantrip if I felt the urge."

"I know you could." Elia's grin was a proud one, "You've already broken up a brawl once."

"Good, remember that before you think to coddle me." Miquella crossed his arms with a huff.

Elia's eyes glanced at the frayed hem riding up to his elbow, brows furrowed, "Is something wrong with your garment?"

"Mn, they don't fit as well as they used to." the boy grimaced.

"...We might find a tailor in the village, if you're liable to be traveling, you'll need more than white robes unless you enjoy mud and grass stains ruining them." Elia noted, "Do you even have a pair of boots to travel with?"

Miquella shook his head, "No, I never needed them."

"We're taking you to a tailor." Elia offered him her hand, which he tentatively took with budding curiosity.

Conversation with Radahn felt akin to a powder keg being dangled precariously close to an open flame.

The general had found Malenia alone in the sparring grounds, unarmed and unarmoured, yet he marched with the conviction he held when leading an army. Radagon's most stubborn and direct inheritors of his predilection for war faced one another, and Radahn's voice came out in a measured and heavy lilt.

"Malenia."

"General. What brings you here?" she lowered her sword, slowly setting it aside as she stepped towards him.

"I will be brief with you. Our old score at Caelid is unsettled."

"You desire a rematch?" Malenia grimaced, "and incur both Father and his consort's wrath-"

"Apologize." Radahn interjected tersely, "She already crossed blades with me to deter a rematch with you. I've had my rematch with our underhanded Tarnished."

"That makes one of us." Malenia muttered, "You want an apology. For blooming, for arriving at your keep, be specific. I won't apologize for meeting you on the field of battle as we all tried to ascend to glory."

"Apologize for despoiling Caelid's land and plunging Sellia, a once great city, into ruin as a plague ridden hovel!" Radahn hissed at her, teeth bared and fists clenched, "How many died in the ruin you left once your knights swept you from the field - I festered for centuries as a blight to my own men! This was not war, woman, this was a disgrace. I know you, we all thought you were above this degree of pettiness. What happened to you?"

"Mohg." Malenia spoke after a pregnant pause, "Mohg took my brother, and the world tilted on its axis as the shattering plunged the land into ruin. Godwyn was dead, father missing, and Marika unhinged and causing this hell- what could I have done?! War is the only language this land knows to bring about order, Marika made it so, and you are another architect of this bloodied art as I am."

"You couldn't have thought I did harm to Miquella? " Radahn whispered, the notion unsettling and revolting. "I did not fight you in my right mind, Radahn. I freely admit that."

"...Would you have bloomed, had you not been desperate to find him?" The general pressed with crossed arms.

"No. I… I do apologize for that. For what you suffered. Twas never how I would have wished to conquer this world into a new age, not one of rot." Malenia shook her head, her eyes burning and vision blurred until a hand settled over her shoulder and she tensed.

"That's all I need from you." Radahn's tone was somber, "...I don't crave another war. Not with you, too many of us have died once to spill blood as freely as water once more."

"...Did losing to her really quell that drive?" Malenia asked, her voice raw as she rested a hand over Radahn's, peering up at him with lingering uncertainty.

"No. Understanding the powers that felled my father's marriage is what did it." Radahn grimaced. "...I just want my brother back, and to see my mother smile more. What of you? What do you want these days?"

"...I enjoy peace more than I will ever let Elia know." Malenia murmured, "Moreover I wish I hadn't plunged into a fight when I could have been led to my brother sooner."

"Rest then. You may be joining us on the journey to Volcano Manor imminently." Radahn clapped her shoulder.

"Eh? I'll go, but why me?" Malenia's brows scrunched together in confusion.

"Godwyn wants to stay behind and keep tabs on Morgott. We need able bodies and you will enjoy this - by Elia's own admission, you're the finest swordsman of us all."

Malenia's grin spread from ear to ear, a rare sight as a laugh bubbled from her chest of its own volition, "I could be persuaded to go. If she says that to my face." she raked a hand through her hair with a proud hum in approval.

"You're going. She has less pride than you." Radahn deadpanned.

"I'll enjoy hearing it all the same~"

"This is tedious." Miquella grumbled as he glared through the screen at Elia, being handed yet another tunic that would be too large for his frame.

"You've never had to hunt for garments before have you. At least we have storefronts, I pried loot out of tombs or bodies if I had to." she muttered, recalling the means she'd gone through to find a nice cloak in a village of cannibals.

"Father made my garments." Miquella said.

"...Architect, codifier of law, and tailor. A master of all trades?" Elia's brows flew up at the detail.

Miquella made a noncommittal noise of uncertainty, and with some surprise found the green tunic to fit adequately enough, though the sleeves would need to be taken in. He stepped out with a retort, "Marika wasn't going to do it for us, many duties of a parent fell to him, even domestic work."

"...Do you think he would want to make the alterations to the garments we find for you here?" Elia asked then.

The boy nodded, "...He was quite good at embroidery actually, if you ever get the chance to see it. Yes, I'd like him to do that for me."

"I'm sure between the two of us, we can convince your father." she sent him a conspiratory smile. Miquella brightened at the prospect, a smile of his own blooming.

"Have him make you something one day, he doesn't share his crafts as much as he should." Miquella murmured, "Shall we find boots now?"

"We should, you'll one hardy ones with good soles, considering the mountains we'll be trekking through." Elia nodded.

"Won't I just be atop your own horse…Torrent?" Miquella cocked his head.

"Spoiled princeling." Elia muttered, "Probably, but even some of the passes are too steep or extreme for most steeds. This isn't a trek made by horseback. It's climbing, evading lava, and swearing at the heat more than we did in Caelid. Do you still want to tag along?"

"I do." Miquella stood firm.

Radagon eyed the pile of garments in Elia's arms, "...I see you kept yourself busy today. What are these for?"

"Miquella." Elia answered, "If you'd be amenable to tailoring them in for him?"

Radagon gestured for her to hand them over, "A silly question- wait, how do you know I sew?"

"Courtesy of your son. He needs new garments, and I thought to take him to the tailor." Elia sat beside him, "...There is also a second thing I need to ask of you."

"If it's to make you a dress, it will have to wait until after our trip." Radagon replied, sifting through the tunics as he glanced to Elia sidelong, "What is it you need, grackle?"

"I need you to graft a rune into me." Elia muttered, handing over Goldmask's rune for him to inspect. Radagon swallowed hard, brushing his thumb over its gilded surface. In a material form…it was a thin bangle of gold, lustrous and pulsing with tranquil warmth. "Its a warding rune, an inactive one. Yet it looks as if it could have fallen from the Erdtree's boughs with that aura." Radagon nodded in approval, "Certainly, it was fashioned with reverence and faith. Fia's rune, what I can sense of it, is sound, yet founded from a very different philosophy and intent. It knows it's the outlier of the ring, and anchors it as roots to a tree." Radagon eyed her stomach, and Elia's eyes widened at the realization. He knew where the great runes sat in her body.

"...There wouldn't have been any hiding that rune, even if you hadn't noted my absence back in Leyndell?"

"No. I can read the runes like an open book on your form." his hand traced over her spine, " The anchors of Godfrey's line all coalesced in your spine. The rune of the unborn settled predictably where it has," the other hand splayed over her abdomen as gold eyes raked over her form.

"A-Ah. You've made your point clear. Could you graft the rune into the others?" Elia whispered, and he nodded.

"Easily, I just need you, the hammer, and an anvil." Radagon nodded as he rested his chin atop her head.

"Why an anvil?" Elia arched a brow, not relishing to be in the same hold underneath him against cold stone. "A table would likely shatter." Radagon murmured, "...Somewhere sturdy at least, you'll want to be braced against." "...did you ever need to mend the runes with Marika as you did with me?" Elia questioned in curiosity.

"Once. To completely remove the rune of Death from the Elden Ring. She was its vessel…I became something of an architect to the study and manipulation of its design." Radagon murmured , "It was not a process she dabbled in lightly, and saw it as a point of leverage in my favor."

"Considering what you did to reforge it into my flesh…I can understand the respect for that talent and its ramifications."

"...Something that will not be repeated without your consent." Radagon sighed.

"I know." she assured, "You don't have the same capacity to intimidate me any longer."

"Good." His voice swelled with relief.

Remembrance and Reconciliation

The Carian Manor was beginning to once more resemble the childhood home Ranni once knew. Porcelain hands traced over the restored doors to her mother's study, her glass eye contemplative as she weighed her actions carefully.

Her brother was alive. The stars resumed their dance after mother's gentle coaxing, and the point was moot as a new age dawned. With it…the truth was owed. The light of day would draw out the bones of Ranni's closet, just as it had her father's. She had a begrudging respect for his transparency…even if she detested the claim to power he held.

Ranni pushed open the doors, her hands trembling with the motion as she stepped into her mother's refurbished room, "...Mother?"

Rennala peered up from the telescope laying dismantled across her desk, "Ranni, what is it sweetling?"

"...I've something to tell you. Please sit with me?" The princess gently clasped her mother's hands and shoulders.

Rennala nodded, braced and following Ranni to sit atop the bed with her. Her daughter was so small in this cold body when

her, gently carding her hand through those waving locks, "Speak to me darling, what troubles thee?"

Ranni dipped her head into her mother's shoulder, "...I grasped for the stars, to conjureth a night as resplendent as thine own. I failed….and Godwyn's life was spent to slake off the prison of mine own flesh."

"...Thee does not owe me an apology for such a thing. Yet…was it worth it, Ranni?" Rennala cupped her cheek with a soft sigh.

The princess shook her head, "...No. Thee…Thou were mendable. I could have done better things, restored this academy, my country- I slew my own kin!" Her voice fractured with that final fact wrought by Radagon's duality being brought to light.

She held little love for Godwyn. Hating him had been an invention wrought by bitterness and desperation to rebuke the woman that ruined Liurnia. Ranni shook, unable to cry as Rennala tightened her hold on Ranni, "...You slew your brother. I failed my children in the moments thou would need me the most. We are two of a pair in our sins…yet is the world done with us, are we wretches beyond repair, Little Ranni?"

"Thoust were stricken with grief, tis not the same as a plan wrought by malice-" Ranni retorted, trembling.

"Didst thou not grieve her country, her family, and father?" Rennala interjected, "Thou art not absolved of what thou did, yet never will I condemn you. What would a mother not do for her child? Never set thyelf down this path again Ranni, and move onward. We both have that chance."

Ranni dug her hands into Rennala's robe, silent and cradled by her mother, "...I shan't speak with him alone…yet…please help me letter Godwyn and Elia. Please."

"I shall, it can be sent under my name, to avoid suspicion and contempt before thou hath said thy piece." Rennala soothed, "...Thanketh thee for having confided in me, Ranni."

Ranni nodded, weary and exhausted as she simply let herself be held.

Millicent was the first to confront Malenia in the library, her tone clipped, "You wanted my father dead. Why?"

The valkyrie stared, her expression blank as she slowly set down her wine, "...Beg pardon-"

"Gowry. You pleaded your case to Elia and wanted him gone. I want to know why." Millicent ground out.

Malenia's blood roared in her ears, "A kindred of rot is no more than another blight-"

"He raised me." Millicent shook her head, "As a person, how did he earn your judgement? He is not a foul pest to kill, no more than the scattered seeds of your aeonia from whence my sisters and I came."

Malenia sighed, waving for Millicent to sit, "He was a strapping acolyte studying in Sellia. He also developed an obsession I was blind to realize until he knelt at my feet and was the first to beg me to ascend to godhood."

"...Worship is why you wanted him dead." Millicent stared, choosimg to stay on her feet.

"If he seeks me out-" Malenia grimaced.

"He won't. He's never left that shack since I left, and he respected my choice to leave. He is my father sooner than he is your unwanted disciple." Millicent's fists shook, "I won't forgive an attempt on his life. Leave him be."

Malenia pinched her brow, "I pray that you're correct in his willingness to simple be idle in Caelid. You, however, your threats are moot when Morgott tore through you as if you were paper."

Millicent flinched, hanging her head with a tight sigh, "...He did."

"You need a better tutor than just my father. He's no swordsman." Malenia mused, "In Elia's own words, I am the best swordsman among you all."

Oh hell.

"You don't mean to teach me…do you?" Millicent paled.

"Someone has to, it may as well be the finest of my family." Malenia smiled then, as proud as her father in that moment. Millicent sighed, loathing the resemblance and pondering how Elia found it charming.

"...When do we start?"

"Oh, tomorrow." Malenia's smile brightened.

Godwyn found Radahn at his door that night and ushered the man in, "Brother?"

"...I wanted to speak with you about Ranni."

Oh. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation. Godwyn exhaled tightly through his nostrils, and shook his head, "I will make this short then. Your sister has nothing to fear from me. Revenge would be a net loss in chaos than it is worth pursuing."

"Yet you would pursue it?" Radahn murmured.

" She had me killed ." Godwyn tensed.

" Malenia subjected me to centuries of rot," Radahn replied, " ...You were defiled and weaponized to hurt your mother, nothing can absolve her of that fact. Nothing can absolve Malenia of waging a conquest in the madness of grief and fear…yet nothing is gained by slaughtering her in a second life. If I can set aside vengeance, as can you, please."

Godwyn was still, and silent for a long moment, "...My mother planted many seeds for ruin, didn't she ."

" My father bears his own share of the blame. We mustn't keep paying the price in this vicious cycle of eating one another alive." Radahn rested a hand atop Godwyn's shoulder, "... Morgott and Malenia have earned clemency. Please, grant Ranni the same courtesy and let her live a quiet existence."

" ...I do this not in forgiveness, but love for you ." Godwyn whispered , "I am not a hateful man, but I do not easily forgive when I never waged war. Your happiness matters more than the satisfaction of her death. If not for you and Radagon, it would be an eye for an eye."

Radahn's throat went dry, and gave a sobering nod, "...Understood."

"I'm sorry that it isn't the answer you want. Yet it is the only honest one I can give ."

Melina had continued for a week on foot, undaunted even as she traversed ruins, bogs, and frigid frosts of winter.

Liurnia was still a wet and damp quagmire of land, viciously cold and only her inner flame warded off the gnawing numbness of frostbite. Heavy snowfall plagued her this morning, the soles of her boots nearly split as she ambled through the damp and muddied roads. Yet there was a fleeting hope.

The trails of wheels and footsteps. Caravans passed through here, in the direction of the one infamous academy…and where Elia had made a home after the roundtable pushed Fia out.

It was hard to forget Elia's entry to the round table. A guest snuck in by Melina, who Gideon never quite enjoyed.

Fia had been the first to welcome the addled Tarnished with open arms, tending to the wounds Elia walked away with once she bled the grafted scion dry. A brutal war of attrition that should have killed her. Instead a bandaged and bruised woman had graced Fia's bed for half a week, and given the woman more consistent company than she had seen in weeks.

Of course, when Elia's most earnest friend and companion had been affronted, the Tarnished would leave with her. Visits became fewer as the shards hanging from her throat became more numerous.

Gideon faced the worst insult, as the head of the Omen Killer was dropped onto his desk, ruining a rare text pried from some forgotten catacomb.

"...What is the meaning of this gift, Tarnished?" The man grimaced beneath his helm, and stared at the sight of Nepheli at her right.

"We could ask you the very same thing." Elia grimaced, "You plundered a village. This is a lawless land, yet you claim to be a civilized man of knowledge?"

Gideon eyed the smiling helm of the omen killer, "The path to becoming Elden Lord is not a clean one. Knowledge is power, girl. Power is not found in the arms of a necrophile or in feeble notions of mercy. You, a Tarnished of no reknown will fail as all others before you have, and drag every acquainted soul with you." His tone hardened as he glared at his daughter, "Begone, both of you."

Elia's expression flashed with momentary rage, halted only by Nepheli, "Don't…blood shouldn't be shed here-"

"His guard held no such courtesy." Elia grimaced, "Ensha's dead, and you'll never find Miquella any sooner than I."

"And why is that?" Gideon asked, surprisingly nonchalant, "You carry the stink of rot. How long will that girl last?"

"Longer than you if you lay waste to another village." Elia hissed, and stormed out of the man's study with Nepheli not far behind her.

That was the last time Elia ventured to the hold, and she became a woman committed to rehabilitating the husk of her home's prized academy and Queen. Melina hoped she would last long enough to see the fruits of that work.

Scattered Ashes

The snow and frost of Liurnia's frozen bogs and roads gave way to the ever persistent heat of Mount Gelmir. Radagon grimaced under the sweltering heat and persistent ash, and kept a firm hand clasped with Elia's as they were forced to take a narrow footpath hugging the steep cliff face. A lava flow had overtaken the last route Elia had taken, and carving a new path would be a gamble of unsettling such a magically and tectonically charged area.

Elia had been the last to travel the mountain all the same, and thus was their guide with Radagon at her back, followed by Malenia carrying Miquella atop her shoulders, and Radahn flanking the group with a sword drawn, keeping an eye out for anything liable to climb the rock face or drop down upon them on such a vulnerable ledge.

Malenia was the first to hiss, "What compelled Rykard to settle here?"

"Academics and occultism" Radagon deadpanned as he wiped the perspiration from his brow, "My son felt the need to straddle being a heretic and a prodigy."

Miquella held fast to his sister, and called over the constant sounds of smoldering flame and flowing lava, "The cult of the serpent laid in this place, yes?"

"It did, and it swallowed Rykard whole eventually. I'm baffled that he never drove off his consort." Radagon shook his head, "What was it like last, when you observed the area, Elia?"

"Very stately, frankly." Elia murmured, "...I slipped in under Rya's hospitality, and heard Tanith's preamble to her manor's philosophy before absconding to go kill her husband. The mounds of bodies found in the process of doing so washed away the sense of guilt rather quickly. The manor is a prim facade to what Rykard's descent into madness cost in flesh and blood. It's the underbelly you won't want to see as we work our way up."

"Pray tell, how are you leading us into this place?" Malenia raised her brows, not liking where this was going.

"Drainage pipes. I trust those to be largely intact given the state of the castle being as immaculate as it is," Elia sighed, "It isn't as if the gates are accessible now."

Miquella sighed and Malenia shook her head with biting sarcasm, "Wonderful."

"You've trodded through worse across a battlefield. Don't be dainty." Radahn rolled his eyes.

"Forgive me for not being enthused to drag my brother through offal and gore." Malenia huffed.

Radagon sent a warning look over his shoulder, "We're all trotting through the same terrible path, commiserate rather than argue."

The walk carried on in silence for the better part of an hour. Only when Elia saw the brick archway and rusted grate did she wave everyone over. It carried a muddled mix of blackwater and waste, the pipe a cooler current of earthen decay.

"...How did you find this route?" Radahn ducked under the already sawed opening of the grate.

"I wasn't going to make my exit through the manor." Elia murmured, "Not when I couldn't find Rya and the guards were milling about for a culprit." She kicked the rusted grate with a grimace, "Rykard's dungeons are a pit, and even their waste had to be drained and siphoned off away from the castle. I took a tunnel and ran, it spat me out here."

Radagon swallowed hard, "What state were you in, if a confrontation with the guards dissuaded you?"

"A broken arm and my eye was shot to hell." Elia winced, "Rykard is insane, not incompetant. He'd devoured countless tarnished before I found him. If Tanith had me captive - it'd be Rykard's Great Rune, and perhaps three others at the time in her hands."

"Flight was your best option." Radahn muttered, "Losing the runes would have doomed you."

"At least it provided a backdoor." Elia waved them onward, "I hope you're ready to see this, you two."

Radagona and Radahn exchanged a hesitant look, father and son sharing a stiff nod in understanding as Radagon clapped the general's shoulder, "Lets go."

Malenia gently held her father's hand, and Miquella reached out to rest his hand atop Radahn's head, in some gesture of comfort. It was appreciated as Radahn managed a wry smile, and the party began the approach to the estate.

Diallos could see brick underfoot for once. The last pyres still burned, yet soot and rust stained brick floors were now bare of the deceased and caged miscreants unfortunate enough to have been Rykard's test subjects.

The demigod still unnerved the tarnished, even though Rykard never was one to raise his voice and a contemplative man these days. That baritone voice and elegant cadence broke Diallos from his observations.

"...You've seen much more of this land than I have, in the last few centuries. Diallos, what have you seen beyond the manor and of the Tarnished that slew me." Rykard clasped his hands behind his back, watching the fire with sobering calculation. His hands were bloodied, and he hoped he wouldn't bury another mass of bodies again.

"It's disorganized, my lord. Leyndelle was untouchable to us all, and few other cities remained with leadership. Stormveil began to take shape under the command of another Tarnished, Nepheli. There was a big stink about her leaving after Gideon cast her out, and we began to disband from him in short order."

"...Gideon, the all knowing hack with a pride larger than his book collection." Rykard muttered, "Many of your brethren spoke of him to my wife, he seems to be the figurehead and most loathed aspect of the Round Table hold."

Diallos stared, "...how do you know that place?"

"Flesh and memories are two of a pair when I ate, Diallos." Rykard sighed, "...I would still value your account of the Hold, and its inhabitants. It seems that its inhabitants have a knack for grasping power and influence. A Tarnished rules Stormveil, I would like to know of Raya Lucaria."

"...Elia stayed there often, seemed to have a good rapport with the new Archmage Sellen, and she kept an eye on the old queen.

She worried about the queen when she was away for long." Diallos murmured.

Rykard furrowed his brow, "My killer is acting as a caretaker to my mother?"

"I don't know. She based herself around the academy, however." Diallos informed, "...I don't believe she'd do harm to Rennala-" " Queen Rennala, mind her rank, please." Rykard interjected.

" Queen Rennala wouldn't come to harm under her watch, I firmly believe that much." Diallos dipped his head at the lord's sharp tone.

"...Be that as it may, to have Sellen tromping the grounds after her expulsion is an interesting development," Rykard stroked his beard in thought, "What was the state of the Round table, and why did you leave, personally?"

"Gideon cast out his daughter, and rumour has it he allowed his lackey to bait Elia into an assassination attempt. He violated the peace of the hold, however subtly. If he could drive out a shardbearer, who was next, and how reliable was he as help? I left and…all but meandered my way into your jaws almost."

"...Tanith did her part well, overwhelmingly so." Rykard grimaced, "I do apologize, for the anxiety you suffered here as an intended sacrifice. You aren't meat, you may be a rare and decent sort of man, Diallos. I know my daughter sees you as such."

Diallos tentatively met Rykard's gaze, and perhaps for the first time, saw a hint of warmth in those eyes.

The tall silhouette of the academy finally came into view through the fog and haze of snow flurries. Sparks warmed Melina's hands as she sought their fleeting warmth, hobbling forward through the mud path and onto….cobblestone?

The odd shapes had been ruins once, floodied and rotting. A solid main road greeted the woman, and she eyed the dim orange glow of windows. Warmth. There were people here, beyond the academy, but in the town proper.

How long had she been gone?

With the new ache and heaviness of her limbs, Melina broke into an uneven sprint, rushing into the sleeping village and frantically scanning her surroundings. The buildings were disordinant in style and a varied collage of heights, materials, and purposes. An inn, a forge, a lumber mill and granary, Melina blinked as she ambled forward in a daze.

A sharp voice yelled from an open door - the inn.

"Get in before thou freezes thine backside off!"

The old and regal voice of the Omen king was the last Melina expected to face, she tugged her hood over her head, and bolted inside before the omen could get a proper look at her. The crackling of a hearth mattered more in that moment as she ducked under his arm, and he shook his head at her seeming dismissal, stalking off to rejoin his companion with an ample bucket of prawns.

The town perhaps hadn't been sleeping, merely cloistered around whatever fire they could stoke in the midst of a winter freeze. Stew bubbled over the fire, and warm mead and cider were passed around in abundance. Melina didn't have to look far before she was nudged to an open bench, and a warm roll of bread and hot bowl of soup were in her hands.

"...Thank you," she lifted her gaze to see the familiar hat of Rogier, and the mage offering her a kind smile without a hint of recognition for the maiden.

"You're welcome and stay warm, wave if you need anything." Rgoier's hand patted her shoulder in passing before she was left with her meal and faced a strange sense of anonymity amongst strangers and familiar faces from the Round Table.

Melina tore a bite from her bread, her appetite ravenous and body aching for rest.

It may have been on account of being incorporeal for an age, yet the meal was divine to the tastes of a starved woman.

The sludge and grime was an awful assault to the senses, Radagon kept his eyes forward, an arm around Elia's shoulders to keep her steady. She threaded through water reaching her knees, and he loathed to think of what it was like to limp out of here wounded and down an arm.

"Are you holding up alright?" He asked, a bit relieved to see her back in her chitin armor. Its fissures were hairline and almost imperceptible, a repair job he slaved over in the final days of preparation before they set out to Mount Gelmir.

Elia's expression had been one of delight when he presented the armor to her, and he could grow accustomed to a kiss to the cheek in thanks from her.

She nodded, "I'm alright…you and Radahn, are you both alright?"

"We're braced. It's the most we can do." He murmured , "...Do you want to be carried?"

Elia blinked, and tentatively nodded, "If you're offering… yes please."

It was with damnable ease that Radagon lifted her into his arms and out of the lukewarm muck, "...I do pray this is the sole time we have to take this path."

"It's only slightly better than the shunning grounds." Elia muttered in agreement.

Radagon paused midstep, and asked, "You actually ventured down there?"

"...Well, yes. I combed through Lyndelle for anything of value I could find once I was properly inside the city." Elia confessed, "...The castle was enlightening, but the shunning grounds…they paint a very visceral picture of what Morgott called his cradle." "Is that what informed your decision to grant him clemency?" He furrowed his brow.

"Yes." Elia nodded, "It's remarkable he came out sane, we know what Mohg was reduced to in desperation to cope. Whatever beliefs spawned the treatment of omens… it's thoroughly undeserved and more monstrous than any perceived heresy in their existence."

Radagon was silent for a long moment in contemplation, "...Marika never spoke of the grounds, nor did she dare trespass there once the greater Will handed down its Edict to banish her sons. More than once I had to pry Godwyn out of there as a boy. Too clever to let the matter rest, and he knew a goddess simply doesn't miscarry twins who held no complications prior in her pregnancy."

"...You kept your hands out of the matter?" Elia raised a brow, not expecting him to have thrown any souls down there, yet unsure of his complicity.

"I tried to. When Mohg escaped, it was a hellish manhunt to try to find him. Marika set me to work on a task she couldn't perform openly. I was down there once, and perhaps it was the first time Morgott became aware of my existence, and he stopped being the faceless infant son of Godfrey."

"...What was he like then?" Elia asked, resting her cheek atop his shoulder.

"Skittish, and likely as capable of breaking his shackles as his brother had. Yet he still wore them, and refused to look me in the eye. I think he expected to die that day, as some recompense for his brother's defiance." Radagon grimaced, his stomach twisting at the discomfort of having been a fearsome menace to what at the time had just been a scared young man, " ...I simply asked him about his brother, how Mohg had broken his shackles, and where he had escaped through." "Did he yield any answers?" Elia pressed.

"No. He was tight lipped and ready to pay the price. I left him, and predictably found nothing of the omen until your accounts of him." Radagon sighed, "If we knew what he would later do, I don't think Morgott would have held his silence."

"I don't think so either, he's a near inversion of his brother, and has a moral compass beneath the blind faith he touts." Elia muttered, "He has a great deal of reverence for the demigods, both yours and Marika's lines."

"...Surprising." Radagon murmured , "I expected him to revile Godfrey's successor, plenty did during my time as Elden Lord." "Why did you earn condemnation?" Elia cocked her head then.

"I openly consorted with Rennala, returned with three children of another bride, and the champion who narrowly avoided execution for treason in the eyes of many." Radagon recounted, "It wasn't until the twins were born that we had a modicum of normalcy as the dynasty saw its last expansion and united two halves of a strange family tree."

Elia nodded , "...you don't speak often of your marriage with Marika. You seem to hate her in moments, and recall her as a lost friend in others. What was she to you?"

"Family." he murmured, "I'm as old as her marriage to Godfrey, she grafted me at a very early stage in her ascension to godhood. She never wanted a consort…I think she wished to be less alone in the waning numbers of her clan. We weren't a large clan, and only so many can survive a migration overseas with limited provisions."

"...Was she gentler in those early days?" Elia asked, "and were you?"

"I was awkward and adjusting to life beyond her memories." Radagon answered, "She…she wasn't unlike you once. Idealistic, and craving a sense of belonging. Yet under the eye of a god, and few friends in a strange land beyond Godfrey, Maliketh, and I…it was a punishing mantle to bear. She was less a lady and more so a warrior in those early days, on the front as readily as the three of us, and pushing out the dragons to define the next age once the Erdtree took root."

Golden haired, wielding her war hammer as the gilded half to radagon, they were two of a pair and fought in unison. Godfrey had little to worry for when his wife was out of sight, a wolf and her right hand were always reliable to ensure her safety.

"Marika fights like a demon, if you ever see her in battle." Radagon murmured quietly, "She's more agile than I, and proficient with swordplay when she bequeathed the hammer to me. Be careful, she's not dainty or fragile."

"Duly noted. Are you worried she'll be hostile if she's revived?" Elia whispered.

"No… she's not a liar, despite all of her contradictions or her mood changing like the weather. Nor does she seem to be affronted by you taking her mantle as queen, she's wanted to shrug off that mantle for an age now."

Elia winced, "I've no intention of being the monarch she was."

"I know." Radagon murmured, "Yet what do you intend to be, now that you've held the ring for a few months?"

"...I just want peace? Nepheli holds Stomveil just fine. Caelid is a work in progress. Leyndell can go to Morgott frankly if he ever wants the city back, he was a perfectly serviceable king. …I just want to live in Liurnia, maybe rebuild my village and live as some esoteric woman that only rears her head when a tyrant gets too bold." Elia confessed, "What of you, I don't expect you to be perpetually bound to my wants?"

Radagon hummed in contemplation, "I'd like to never see a warfront again. Perhaps I'll turn to academics in peace time, when you aren't playing the role of ambassador or justicar."

"You won't bemoan not living in a palace, or living a simpler existence? Vallis was tiny even at its most populous state." Elia warned.

"I've had centuries to endure palace life and the associated joys of being micromanaged." Radagon deadpanned, "I might ask you to indulge me in traveling…and maybe a jaunt as a professor."

"I'd enjoy hearing you lecture about legal codes rather than pushing you into another warfront." Elia murmured, "...If we do have a future, that begs the security of the ring."

"I know… particularly if you intend to settle with a family or not." he muttered.

Her brows flew up sharply, clearly that thought hadn't settled in the brainpan yet.

"...Particularly then. If we spawn another line of demigods…I don't want the ring to be a relic they can vie for." Elia murmured.

"We'll find a solution, but at another time and not in a sewer." he whispered, his lips brushing her brow in soft assurance. She cupped his cheek, and would have kissed him if Radahn hadn't called back to them.

"We're almost at the exit. Wait until we aren't filthy before you two decide to be romantic."

Radagon sent his son a withering look, and trudged ahead to the light of the torches.

Odd…this area seemed to be…maintained?

Torches were lit, the brick floors bare and the mounds of bodies just…gone. Elia swallowed hard, "...This place is still inhabited, to be this well kept."

Radagon slowly set her to her feet, eyeing the charred pyres, "We can surmise how the bodies were disposed of."

"Tread carefully, we don't know how hospitable this castle's tenants will be." Elia reminded.

Folly of the Conqueror

To say Rykard had been reborn would be accurate, pried from the serpent in a body that resembled the one that resembled the man that the snake had consumed. Yet he was not a man who simply adopted his old skin. Scales marked his back, talons still protrude from his fingers, and a serpentine tongue lingered. Subtle deviations that were a small price to pay for his sanity.

He understood the trepidation Diallos still carried for his presence, and Rya's hesitance to see him. She hadn't been sired in the best of circumstances, and for the innate affection he held for the girl, the motions of parenthood were largely lost upon him. It was during dinner with Tanith, that he asked, "...How did you become proficient at motherhood, whilst fostering Rya?"

"I fumbled, for many years in fact." Tanith replied frankly, her mask set aside as she smiled at her husband, "You will too, tis only natural as you learn another discipline."

"Is that what parenthood is, my lady?" Rykard rested his chin in his palm.

"I see it as such… she's a sweet girl, and perhaps fawning over a knight for the first time in her life." Tanith murmured, "What is your measure of the boy, he shadows you more often than I these days."

"He's a fine lad, and of a stronger constitution than I initially expected of him." Rykard murmured, "If he stays, he will be welcome here. Nor would Rya complain."

Tanith blinked, "I thought you would be more defensive, as most fathers."

"Are they so insecure as to doubt the instincts of their daughters? I am not. She's learned under you for centuries…and hopefully I can impart wisdom as a more present man." Rykard muttered.

"...You needn't fault yourself more than you already have, husband." Tanith reached across the table to clasp his hand.

"The world is far less forgiving than you." he sighed, pressing a kiss to her palm in tender gratitude.

"Hang the world's opinion of you, for all I care." Tanith replied softly, "...would you forgive me for saying that I missed this, and you?"

"Without question. I'm sorry for having made you stomach my insanity and vile form." he whispered, "You would have been within your rights to leave, as would Rya."

"I joined you as family, in whatever shape that it would take." Tanith shook her head, "Leaving was never an option I indulged."

He would have kissed her then, if not for the clashing of steel on steel, and something bodily slamming into the doors down the

hall.

Damnit.

Rykard hastily rose to his feet, followed by Tanith's knight as he called over, "Retreat to our quarters, now! Protect my wife."

Tanith swore under her breath, "W-Who could be foolish enough to trespass here - again?"

"...I have a hunch." he grimaced, "Go, I'm not so remiss as to die a second time to that damned Numen."

Diallos truly wished he had seen Elia in better circumstances, than seeing her deck a guard that tried to run her through. The poor sod was thrown into a set of doors, alive but groaning in a heap. He might have been next, if Elia hadn't seen his familiar armor and face, and blanched.

"...Did I not tell you to run when I last saw you?" she whispered.

Diallos had his hands raised, breath hitched as he nodded, "...I did run, until Rya absconded away from home. Someone needed to look after her, and see her returned home."

"Oh stars, you found her," Elia exhaled in relief, "Is she alright?"

"S-She's fine! …Jittery and reclusive…but she's adjusting and settling back into routine here." Diallos nodded, surveying the room with its damage and mercifully, still living soldiers, "Now, why are you storming this place again?"

"...We're looking for Rykard." she confessed, and Diallos groaned, "He's alive?"

"Yes - did you need to invade his house just to find that out?!" Diallos huffed in frustration, and nearly bolted at the sight of a red haired man advancing into the hall with a hammer in hand with an intense look in his eyes. Elia slapped her hand to her companion's chest to halt his advance.

"Apologies, but we couldn't approach the gate with the path all but destroyed. None of the men are dead - we just need an audience." Elia paused, "Radagon, you did leave them alive, yes?"

Diallos' mind went blank as the man nodded, "Yes, as cumbersome as it was." "...Lord Rykard's father?" Diallos pointed to the man.

"Yes, what of it?" Radagon deadpanned, "Is he an associate of yours, Elia?"

"He's a friend, Diallos, this is Radagon - Radagon, meet Diallos." Elia introduced with a sheepish expression.

"...Elden Lord." Diallos continued to stare, "How is he in your company?"

"A long story for a later hour-" Elia was promptly cut off mid sentence as the doors were thrown open in a torrent of flame and molten slag. Diallos had the fortune of being able to dive out of the corridor into an adjoining room, Radagon and Elia were less fortunate.

In the direct line of fire, Radagon threw up a defensive ward, his sigil gleaming with the familiar blue of the spell that once sealed Raya Lucaria. Flame and lava slammed against the shield, and Elia drew her swords with a grimace, dreading the man on the other side of the wall of fire.

The flames petered out with the flow of magic withering, and slag cooled into fragments of obsidian as the mage stepped forward, eyeing the defensive rune with a sneer before his eyes settled on Elia with newfound fury, "You- in what world was reentering my home ever a logical course of action, Tarnished?!"

He was not blind to Radagon's presence, his jaw set and the gem of his staff gleaming with spooled energy ready to be focused,

"...Showing your face here with my father in tow, what are you playing at?"

"We were here to see if you had been revived in the same fashion as Radahn, Rykard." Radagon grimaced.

"The leal hound of the Golden Order traveling with a tarnished who burned the Erdtree, would you care to explain that divine comedy?" Rykard pressed, still poised to strike.

Radagon tightened his grip on the hammer, his patience quickly waning for his most vexing child, "Marriage is a baffling arrangement that has managed to surprise me twice in my life. She is my wife, boy. Now tell me how you inhabit a sapient body once more?"

Rykard's expression faltered into genuine alarm as he lowered the staff for a moment, surveying Elia with an appraising look,

"How in the stars did you manage to seduce a man like him ?"

"Both you and Morgott seem to leap to the impression I initiated this!" Elia hissed, "...How are you in human form though?"

"I don't know!" he huffed, "I simply awoke within the bowels of the serpent to find my wife clawing me out when she heard my voice! Ask your god for the answers you seek, I have none for you. If you came here to ascertain my fate, you did so in the most destructive manner possible."

"...Sorry." Elia muttered, whilst Radagon was far less apologetic, " Are you saner these days, than when a battalion had to be sent to end your assault on the local denizens?"

Rykard glowered, "Yes, I have my wits about me. What of Mother, how has she taken news of you consorting with yet another woman?"

Radagon flinched, the rune dissipating as he nearly advanced before Elia snared an arm around his waist, "Do not! We didn't come all this way for another dogfight to ensue."

He grimaced, bracing a hand over Elia's as he ground out, "Rennala is better these days, and seems to have taken the new development in stride when she refused to forgive me or reconcile beyond the bare modicum of civility. She wants nothing to do with me, Rykard. If you have a desire to see her, find her at the family manor. Rennala and Ranni reside there once more." "...The academy, has it fallen to that heretic Sellen and the stewardship of a Tarnished?" Rykard muttered, sobered by the news and contemplative, "Better yet, what even are you in this state, traipsing around with the Elden Lord?"

Elia and Radagon paused, and she chose to clarify, "...Your father reclaimed his crown. It's Marika who was deposed by me."

"Hmn, not much of a loss truly, one numen to replace another." Rykard mused, "You're a god now, another puppet to the Greater

Will."

"No. I won't sell my soul to that thing, not when we've seen the results of Faustian pacts with the divine." Elia grimaced, "Raya Lucaria fares well these days, Sellen makes for a capable headmistress, and I'll accept your judgment when you've dredged a town from flooded bogs and cataloged an archive that ancient and chaotic."

Rykard's gaze sharpened, "...You're stupider than your predecessor. There was a reason Marika ceased to grace the battlefield when she had a war hound to deploy."

The scepter's ruby gleamed, and flame began to engulf the hall, "The Elden Ring, it could be carved out of your very flesh, rune by rune, pound by pound." Rykard lunged, twirling the scepter in hand to jab at Elia with the bladed end.

He wasn't Malenia, and certainly was no Radahn. The sum of the serpent was a greater swordsman than him as Elia slashed Lacero to catch the thin sword with the hard thunk of dense bone against metal, before bashing Rykard's jaw in with the butt of the sword. Her boot met his sternum to kick him back across the tile, and she glared, "You aren't your father, nor Radahn. Spare me the idle threats, Rykard." The flames dimmed, unfocused and waning as Rykard's focus snapped, and he held his bleeding jaw.

He was frailer than he cared to admit in this body, and cursed himself for forgetting that fact as he glared at Elia. Radagon loomed at her side, the hammer raised in warning as he seethed, "You will live for making that mistake once in your life. Do not grasp for glory that evaded you for millennia and cost you your very mind, please." Radagon's tone softened then, the hammer lowering to his side.

"And the woman you brought to your bed is any more worthy of being the law of the land incarnate? Or do you simply crave the familiarity and safety net of maintaining control, father?" Rykard pressed.

Elia set her jaw, "...This is best handled between you, Rykard, and Radahn."

Radagon nodded, gingerly squeezing Elia's arm in passing, "...Find your friend - Diallos?"

"I will, stars help him, the poor sod might have pissed himself in the chaos of Rykard's entrance." Elia muttered as she stalked

off.

Rykard was left alone with his father, and he sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth, "...Well, summon my brother, and let's finish this reunion."

Melina had laid low that night within Rogier's inn, her body warm from being loaned a room and a hot meal doing her wonders after days on the road with little sustenance. She was a keen and fervent watcher, still befuddled to see Morgott of all souls milling about with a tense sense of routine about him, always lingering near one of the merchants shacked up in a room down the hall from her.

…He seemed docile for the moment, and Elia mercifully wasn't within stabbing distance of the man. Melina had slipped from the inn early into the morning hours, her cloak's hood shrouding her face and her boots near the end of their use as she hurried towards the academy's gates.

It was garrisoned by a skeletal assortment of Blackguards, Tarnished, and Albinaurics who kept to their post and made rotations where wards alone would not secure the budding institution. Melina felt the latent energy coursing through the ramparts, and the blue rune of order looming over the closed gate made her swallow hard. Elia's proficiency in magic had never been in defensive wards or the incantations of the Golden Order…nor had Radagon's work graced this institution in a long time.

Melina was pulled from her thoughts as a guard called over, "Oi! The Academy's not open to anyone without clearance. What do you need from here, Miss?"

She paused, "My friend should be here, Elia - the Tarnished who slew the demigods?"

The guards knew that name, and the albinuaric of them frowned in speculation, "You won't find her here. Some business to attend to, and she was attacked on these grounds when the security of the guard was lacking. I'm sorry, yet we can't simply admit you on your word alone, and her not being here to vouch for you-"

Melina shook her head, "Who attempted to harm her?"

"An omen, beyond that we can't say for fear of them being targeted. He was given cleme-"

"Morgott." Melina whispered with growing certainty, "Was it him?"

The silence was damning, and the kindling maiden stepped forward, "I know my friend, and I know who she felled in battle or befriended. Sellen, Millicent, or Fia, are any of them present here?"

"...The headmistress and Lady Fia are here." The albinuaric woman beckoned Melina forward, her steps heavy and her legs clad in metal, "Follow me…and stars, don't try anything, please."

Melina nodded hastily, bounding after the woman who cast a glance over her shoulder, "...what is your name, little lady?"

"Melina, I was a maiden to Elia." she confessed, feeling no need to hide to what seemed like a loyal guard. It was odd, seeing a near cohesive unit of guardsmen answer to an institution more formal than even Gideon's network of spies across the Round

Table. Melina replied with a question in kind, "..And you? I've never seen a first generation albinauric with my own eyes."

"Lenore." she murmured, a pale and silver haired woman, and likely would have loomed a foot or so above Elia at nearly seven feet, "...Elia lost her maiden, to burn the Erdtree, no?"

"She did. Twas the price to be paid to face god and claim the ring." Melina murmured, "...I yet live, and she lived long enough to make Raya Lucaria an academy once more. Did she succeed in becoming Elden Lord?"

Lenore winced, "No, she's clawed out something else to call a victory, and I think you would rather hear it from Lady Fia and

Sellen than I…they're closer to a proper witness to what your Tarnished has been doing these past few months."

Melina paused, "...If she is not Elden Lord, what possible victory is there to be had?"

"Godhood." Lenore uttered quietly, "Or something terribly close to it. She may not be golden and glorious as Queen Marika, but she's durable and won't die. It's reliable in its own way."

The kindling maiden wrung her wrists, opting to follow in silence as Lenore led the way.

It was a long and winding walk to find Sellen in her astronomy tower, two cups of tea sat upon her desk, one empty and telling of the company she might have only recently dismissed. Melina had never met the graven witch personally, yet Elia had spoken fondly and critically of the woman. Proud, ruthless, and reliable. Amoral and needing a hand to hold her from scalding herself as she reached for the stars and nearly unseated the Carian Royal Family. Or thought to.

Melina knew Sellen, the closest figure Elia seemed to have latched onto for support as a maternal presence since returning from her exile. The headmistress lifted her gaze, not recognizing Melina, yet seeming to know Lenore.

"Captain, who have you brought to see me?" she set aside her parchment and quill as she motioned for Melina to sit.

"...A friend of your pupil, my lady. The maiden, Melina." Lenore quietly announced before Sellen laced her hands together.

"A bold name to lay claim to. How are you risen from ash and flame, Melina, if you are being truthful?" the mage pressed.

Melina sighed, "I do not claim to know why, I only wanted to find her and know that she had claimed the Elden Throne. Elia pried you away from unseating Rennala successfully, if you steward this academy without injury and torment."

Sellen tensed, "...What do you know of my ascent?"

"You were saved from Jerren in the wastes of Caelid, and issued a new body by Sulivis." Melina replied flatly, "Elia spoke often of you, with ever increasing worry for the hole you were digging, and how unwise it was to tamper with a mother still beloved and guarded by her prodigy of a daughter."

Sellen's lips thinned, recalling that argument quite well.

Rennala had been skittish then, recognizing Sellen upon entry and tightening her hold upon the egg, "...Thou was instructed to depart this academy, for thine misbegotten studies. Why hath thou returned here, what more is there to discover or to ruin,

Sellen?"

This level of lucity awed Sellen for a moment, "How long must books gather dust and this country be a festering bog, Rennala?

How long must your mind wither on the vine?"

Rennala's knuckles went white, and she nearly felt her moon beneath her palms, ready to be cast. This was a petty and small woman, grasping for glory she understood yet would pay in blood and flesh to execute, "...Take thine mantle and be crushed by it, if thou wishes. I shall take no part in it, nor will your pupil."

Sellen's lip curled, "You've not seen how driven she can be."

"I know her family, the hunger in that blood can be intense, yet they've never been the sort to abandon logic and caution." Rennala warned, her tone pleading in that moment, "Heed her words if not mine, if you claim to love your prized student as any true professor should."

The graven witch screw in a sharp breath, "I do. Now leave if you concede your seat as headmistress."

"Tis not a seat I have held in centuries, Sellen." Rennala coldly reminded, sluggishly departing from the antechamber on weary legs, and leaning into her scepter as a staff for balance.

Jerren was a bloodhound in his tenacity, and Sellen understood time was growing short. She banished Rennala's words from her mind, and merely was grateful to only battle one enemy today, and not a queen and empress of the moon and stars. The doors parted, and she felt a quiet sense of relief to see the familiar blue of Elia's cloak and the strange oily sheen of her armor.

"I knew you would see this through to the end, my dear," The smile in Sellen's voice reverbed through her mask, and Elia nodded in agreement.

"Is the new body suiting you..and fit for battle?" her student asked, ever one to worry.

"With two, it will be of no concern, Elia." Sellen assured.

…Good. Rennala, has she been moved?" the Tarnished pressed, "...You didn't attack her, yes?"

"No. I understood your stipulations quite well, despite the loose ended nature of them." Sellen crossed her arms, "...You understate how lucid she is these days."

"It comes and goes," Elia murmured, "...She's best left undisturbed, with the powers that still watch over her." "I'm fairly certain Radagon won't rise from the ether if harm befell her." Sellen scoffed.

"Its not her husband I would be wary of." Elia murmured, "Though his wolves are nothing to scoff at."

"...You give that woman more grace than she deserves. You were discarded twice, by this country and the Golden Order. Why do you offer her mercy?" Sellen finally asked.

"Why do you still love the academy that cast you out…and perhaps rightly so for the people your studies took." Elia whispered, "...Is restoring an institution not a saner pursuit?"

"Do you think me to be insane, a zealot as Rykard became?" Sellen hissed.

"No. I think you are ruthless. A needed trait at key points, yet not in the realm of the cosmos, not when it is a maw that eats and eats!" Elia's voice turned harsh, "Your hunger and ambition could fuel a better age for this academy, why waste your talents unseating an already broken woman or reaching for the stars that scorn and mutilated countless mages in this impotent school of thought?!"

Sellen's breath hitched, reminded of her student's height and fury in that moment, "...Do you have faith in me, as a teacher, if not as a mage?"

"...I do believe in you, but you aren't the next queen or dynasty of Liurnia." Elia whispered, "You're my stubborn teacher who still has a lesson or two to learn about temperance."

Sellen tentatively removed her mask, her throat tight and chest heavy, "...I've dreamt for years of enlightenment, to see the grander whole of the cosmos and flow of magic beyond mortal confines and taboos of a narrow minded world view. You ask me to make myself small."

"...I ask you to do the sane thing that won't get you killed." Elia whispered, "...For me, would you set this aside, abandoning the notion of ascending to the stars?"

Sellen sighed, "I still have much to teach you I suppose. It cannot be helped, you would be astray and lost without a proper tutor."

The mage expected a quip or dismissive scoff from her pupil, not the sharp tug on her arm that pulled the frailer mage into a tight embrace, "M-Mind your strength, Elia…"

"Thank you." the relief in Elia's tone made the woman wince, and she held her student for a moment, "...You're most welcome. Thank you for having voiced your opinion without omission or fear."

They were short for time, and the embrace was brief, but a reassuring gesture all the same as the pair awaited their opponent.

Sellen dragged a hand down her face, "...Then you have quite a bit of news to hear about our Tarnished, Melina. Have a seat, you won't want to be standing for this."

Melina stared, slowly perching herself atop the ornate chair as she asked, "What's happened to Elia…and how is she divine in the eyes of the guards here?"

"She is divine, made so by Radagon's own hands. He won, Melina…and foisted godhood onto her when Marika proved fallible and lacking in his view. Thus, Elia took the mantle of godhood, not Elden Lord, and with it - Radagon is her consort." Sellen muttered, none too pleased with the fact, but having learned to live with it.

Melina was still, fists clenched and her gaze unfocused. "...Is he a brute?"

"...No. He's a stubborn pain in my arse, but he hasn't been a cause for concern in months. Morgott stands upon thinner ice these days, safeguarded by Godwyn and Boggart."

Melina balked, "The very same as-"

"Yes." Sellen nodded, "Fia was successful…and he rose within weeks of Elia's change. You'll find him with her, they're something of a pair these days."

" O-Oh…oh stars." Melina whispered, and was grateful for the tea that Sellen offered. It was something to keep her grounded, despite its bitter taste.

Discussion and Diatribes

Fia was a familiar face, among the few of the Roundtable Melina spoke with directly. For a long while, the deathbed companion was idle and laid claim to a lone chamber within the complex, more often alone than not. Gideon gave her a wide berth not out of kindness, but revulsion and wariness for her craft.

Melina couldn't claim to understand Fia's profession any more than him, yet there was a demure kindness in the companion that was well suited to console and calm the frazzled nerves of a Tarnished. It had worked for Elia with resounding success. This was not Melina's first encounter with Fia, yet the pair hadn't spoken in a long while until Melina brought along yet another Tarnished.

This one was wounded, and proud to have survived, even if being reduced to ash would have been a simpler affair. The scion was dead, its blood still marring the chitinous armor and clotting in the woman's dark brown hair. Fia opened her arms despite the filth of the woman's battle, "You needn't be a stranger, Melina. Who is this?"

"...A new tarnished to the lands between, Elia - this is Fia. She has tended to many wounded and lost souls before you." Melina introduced, gently squeezing her charges' hand. Elia nodded numbly, weary and ducking her head into fia's shoulder without complaint or hesitation.

The bed and raiment Fia wore were terribly soft, and Elia slowly began shedding her bracers and greaves, not wanting to crush or pinch to the woman in an uncomfortable embrace involving armor. Fia's hands moved to the laces binding her chestplate, seamlessly helping Elia disrobe until she sat in her tunic and trousers, looming over Fia in height.

Elia quietly murmured, "Thank you, my lady." she gingerly lifted Fia's hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

The deathbed companion smiled at the gesture, "You're most welcome. I will tend to her, Melina."

"Thank you… I'll return soon, Elia." Melina dipped her head, dissipating into that spectral flurry when she made her exit as always. Elia studied the waifish woman with raised brows, the heart's warmth coaxing more awareness from her, "...How did you come to be here and meet Melina, Fia?"

"She's guided a handful of Tarnished here in previous years." Fia confessed, "I was beckoned by grace, just as you, from a far off land." Gingerly, Fia raked her hands through Elia's hair, damp from rain and blood, "...Why did you persist in spite of your

wounds?"

Elia swallowed hard, "...Have you died in your time here Fia?"

"No, I've been unharmed and safer in this hold for most of my stay in these lands." Fia confessed. Safer, not assured in her protection as she straddled the line of being reviled and invaluable for the comfort she offered.

"Its a suffocating and numbing thing, to be reduced to ash." Elia shook her head, "I'd rather endure injury than undergo that torment more than necessary."

"..That sounds like a cruel inversion of death, to be woken, and routinely killed and revived like a lamb to slaughter." Fia murmured, her voice hardly above that of a whisper.

Elia nodded, "...I think it is. I'd rather have seen my soul returned to the stars, in the fashion Liurnia would pay credence too in our death rites."

"Twould be a kinder fate than to be leeched by the roots, or to persist in death with no recourse." Fia murmured heresy like it was a shared secret, "You weren't a subject of the Golden Order, were you?"

Elia shook her head, "...I was raised in the style of a carian knight, and was a subject of queen Rennala until the Liurnian Civil war. After that… It was simply a quiet routine of serving as a hedge knight and wandering. Institutions and Kings hardly care for a roaming vagrant cast out by a bygone country."

Fia cupped Elia's chin, "...a fellow unwanted thing in the land we still were beckoned to for greater things." Those words were spoken with such tenderness and Fia kissed Elia's brow, "You will always find fellow comfort and warmth here, Elia."

The Tarnished wrapped her arms around Fia's waist, and cradled the woman in a strong grip. Elia wouldn't leave the woman's bed for the night, nor was she urged to leave.

Melina wasn't privy to any further details, but their introduction had cemented a fondness between the women that would persist even as Fia was laid to rest with Godwyn, a multitude of spirit ashes laid with the woman should anyone dare to disturb her rich slumber.

There was relief in Fia's eyes to behold Melina in the flesh once more, confirming beyond a doubt that the maiden was welcome here in Sellen's eyes. The mage was quick to give them their privacy in the sunny nook of the library.

Fia's hands were always cold, and she took in the sight of Melina with a contemplative look as she held the maiden's face, "...Your eye."

Melina blinked, "What of it? It's…it's functional once more, yet I know little as to why that is?"

"...Godwyn's eyes are the same hue, since his rebirth." Fia whispered, puzzled as she eyed the girl. An aquiline nose, russetbrown hair, that brilliant eye of undiluted gold… all scarcer traits beyond the heights of aristocracy and nobility.

"Fia…where is Elia?" Melina murmured, wringing her wrists with growing worry to be held under intense scrutiny.

"Mount Gelmir…it may be some time before she's returned with her entourage." Fia sighed, "Tis just Godwyn and I here in the academy beyond Sellen and her students. The demigods Elia cobbled together all left with her to confirm the whereabouts of Praetor Rykard."

Melina dipped her head with a soft, "Oh." More of them were awakening?

"...May I meet Godwyn, Elia and I…we were unsure if you would ever awaken." Melina confessed.

Fia took Melina's hand with a brightening smile, "Of course, you need only follow me."

Godwyn the Golden, a paler remnant of a prince Melina had never seen, and a doting companion to Fia. The man had been in a leisurely state since being left in the academy, studying the observatory Elia had shown him and Miquella some weeks ago with keen fascination. He'd never quite managed to get the glyphs to work as she did, and trigger the weightlessness of the room, nor was he bold enough to ask Sellen to enjoy the childish fascination he had with the room. He turned away from the scope to see Fia and a stranger, his expression warm and kind despite the faint glow and fog of those dusk hued eyes.

He was pale and his hair an ash blonde hue, taken to wearing blue given the color of his robes when he could finally take a respite from weeks of travel. Melina was silent as Fia approached him, the prince kissing her knuckles in the same gentle fashion as Elia would have. Melina's cheeks burned, to realize how doted upon the companion was as of late.

"...You've befriended Elia, your highness?" Melina asked, brows raised as she finally stepped forward. Godwyn was not unkind, yet his eyes lingered on Melina's eye with faint recognition.

"I have… who are you?" Gowdyn extended a hand, "Clearly a friend of her and Fia, yet she seems to have many contacts from her travels."

"Melina. I was her maiden before the Erdtree burned." Melina informed, "...much has happened since then, I understand. Morgott dwells within this town, and demigods walk the land once more…and she's ascended to godhood?" her voice cracked under the mounting weight, and Godwyn nodded with a quiet sigh, "All of that is true, and someone ought to inform you as to what's transpired in recent months. Walk with me, Lady Melina, I would like to know how you were given the fortune of a revival as we all were, albeit by a variety of means and execution."

Melina took his offered arm, unused to the formality of a man from a different time and cohort than those sired in the aftermath of the shattering.

Sellen eyed the letters atop her desk with a looming headache. A hawk of Stormveil was unexpected, and the owl was likely dispatched from the Carian Manor, both birds had rapped and pecked at her window, beckoning Sellen's attention with little patience.

It was only a mildly petty decision to favor the hawk, as Sellen carried the bird inside upon her arm, and took the note, "...Addressed to Elia. What troubles your lady?" she muttered to the bird absently, breaking the seal to peruse the note's contents.

-Elia.

The Roundtable stands empty. Tread carefully, my scouts reported no signs of attack, merely abandonment. Gideon's study was stripped bare, Hegwn's forge is chilled and the smith, slain. I won't recommend returning there without a formidable entourage.

Be safe, and write to me soon. It's time we confer face to face again when you are able.

In spite of auspicious news, congratulations on your victory.

Best Regards, Nepheli-

Sellen winced, "...She may have held no love for the place, but that hardly bodes well for anyone." she muttered, closing the letter and eyeing the hawk that ruffled his feathers impatiently, "You'll get your fare before I send you back, don't fret."

The owl pecked at Sellen's hand, beckoning her attention to the letter it had brought. With a sigh, Sellen eyed the two notes, one marked for Godwyn, and another designated for Elia. She sighed, finding it best to leave Ranni or Rennala's dialogues to the discretion of their recipients.

Nepheli's letter was a more pertinent matter, as the lady of one land holding addressing the other. Steward, leader, or esoteric woman of growing notoriety, Elia was whom the denizens of this town looked to for guidance, and would for a while yet. Gideon Ofnir was another name of import, a man whose contacts likely still endured, even if he had relocated from the safety of the hold for a more secure location.

Elia hadn't spoken fondly of him, many of the albinuarics who resettled here also held a disdain for the man in the idle gossip Sellen had been privy to. Laying waste to a village seemed to have been the tipping point, paired with the attempt on Elia's life an incident she vented about with furious disdain once to Sellen in her earlier visits.

It had been amusing initially, to see the woman livid and disheveled in stark contrast to her typically calm and civil demeanor.

Elia had stalked into the hideaway, shoulders tensed and approaching Sellen with a weary exhale.

"How many runes would I have to hand over to have you teach me a hex or a curse capable of turning Gideon's entrails into pythons?"

Sellen snapped her book shut, barely restraining a snort beneath her mask, "I'm afraid I have no potions of spells pertaining to transfiguration of the entrails, dear girl. Name a problem I can help with?"

Elia took a seat on a frayed and moth-eaten cushion, "...I may need to impose upon you for lodging for a night or two."

"Would you not be gracing Fia's company within the hold?" Sellen cocked her head, "You're always eager to return there for her."

"Not an option, she's been forced out ever since a lout tried to attack her, and Gideon won't tolerate her or my presence any longer. The bastard's fairly upset that I helped drive a wedge between him and his daughter, and killed his brute, Ensha."

There was something foul, to be lured into the safety of the hold, only to realize what was amiss when the absence of Hewgn's hammering and the dimness of the torches finally clicked. Ensha's ambush had been sudden and brief, ending with the woman's throat cut and Excorio pinning Ensha to the round table as she bled out. The omenkiller's head still hung heavily from Elia's belt, awaiting to be delivered to Gideon. Elia contemplated taking Ensha's before the woman's body finally began to wither into ash underneath the tarnished.

"...Are you unhurt?" Sellen ventured closer, the delicate corporeality of her projection wavering when she gripped Elia's shoulder. Any amusement was gone, and the gravity of the circumstances were clear. Elia was alone, unsanctioned by the one institution the Tarnished could lay claim to.

Elia nodded, "I'm fine… Nepheli's bound for Stormveil, it would be wise for someone to put the castle to good use, and she's as capable as anyone among our lot as a Tarnished."

Sellen nodded, "Would you accept a slight detour from your travels, my pupil?"

Elia blinked, "What did you have in mind?"

"You already possess two runes," the sorceress gestured to the pouch tucked under Elia's breastplate, "Radahn will be the next one you seek, no?"

"He's the most obvious target…and he obstructs the dance of the stars, Ranni remains stagnant and bound if he continues to fester and rot in the wastes." Elia murmured, and Sellen sighed.

"Be careful with your entanglement with the royal family, yet if you will be in Caelid..I would ask that you find the sorcerer Lustat, and return with his primal glintstone. His work is crucial to my research and restoring the primeval current."

Elia nodded, "...will this help you restore your body?"

Sellen stiffened, had she been seen through so quickly.

"I'm curious is all…you're a delicate construct presently." Elia murmured, "Not unlike Melina. Yet she's a freemoving spirit, you're still bound, tethered to a body."

"...There will be a time when I ask for your help regarding my body, yes." Sellen murmured, "You would do me that kindness without prompting?"

"Your spells have saved my skin multiple times." Elia nodded, "Its only fair I help my teacher."

Sellen held Elia's chin, "You have my thanks, this dwelling is not much in the way of a home, but you will find respite and shelter here, always."

Sellen held Nepheli's note tightly, and rose to her feet with a tight exhale. She wanted eyes and ears on Gideon, or any trace of that man. His actions had upended her student once already, she wouldn't see him worm his way to power again and be none the wiser. The headmistress hurried down the halls, knowing a name and face that would gladly be put to task in hunting the man.

Lenore. The austere and reliable archer outfitted with legs of silver wrought from the dissection and study of Malenia's limbs. They weren't Miquella's work, an imitation of inferences and more primitive smithing made heavy and reliable limbs suitable for patrols and casual walks, yet the woman would always be at her best astride a wolf.

Sellen found the captain in the stables, tending to the direwolf that served as her steed. The hound's ears pricked back at the approach of a newcomer, the growl dying in their throat when its rider gently held his ear.

"Lady Sellen, what is it?" the captain was long limbed and thin under her armor, silver eyes flicking to the mage in idle curiosity.

"...I have a task I wouldn't entrust onto your men, given the gravity of the target in question." Sellen spoke quietly, "Gideon Ofnir.

A man who needs no introduction."

Lenore's lips drew back into a sneer, baring sharp teeth and her eyes narrowing, "What is that man doing, if not gathering dust in a study whilst his underlings pillage and slaughter?"

"He's on the move, and has vacated the hold he was squirreled away within, according to his former daughter." Sellen informed, "...Would you be willing to investigate the matter?"

Lenore hesitated, "...Latenna was a superior warrior than me, and even she failed to kill him."

Sellen winced, "Elia never did share many details about the assault on the village beyond the medallion she received."

"It was a horror." Lenore grimaced, "...I do want that man dead, strung up and hated more than the Dung Eater."

"Then we need information and eyes on him, before he has ears upon us and strikes first. He has no lack of initiative." Sellen crossed her arms, "...What would you need, to feel safe in this pursuit."

"...The aid of a demigod would be appreciated, if he lacks any other task at present." Lenore conceded, "Will Elia make a call to war, if we find Gideon?"

"I doubt it. She's not one for grand overtures or battles. If she wants Gideon removed, it will be precise and discrete. …Radagon alone is a helpful deterrent from attack, given how he handled Morgott." Sellen held her chin in thought, "I'll ask Godwyn if he would lend his aid, anything beyond tracking down the man should wait until everyone can convene."

Lenore nodded, bumping her brow to her wolf with a tired exhale, "Alright… For now, we should advance the project to fortify the village properly and extend the academy's ramparts around it. That settlement is beginning to sprawl out like weed without cohesion, and by spring we'll have an open front vulnerable to invasion."

"...You're correct, nor will winter persist for much longer." Sellen murmured, the cogs in her mind turning at the prospects that loomed ahead of them.

When Elia found Diallos, it was to find the man in Rya's arms as the pair had retreated to a drawing room, the girl tensed and fraught with worry. She turned her face into the man's chest when Elia approached, and she halted, "...I-I'm not here to hurt you, my lady."

Diallos lightly held Rya's shoulders, attempting to calm her as the girl eyed Elia carefully, "Please don't be here to kill father a second time?"

She winced, perhaps deserving of that comment, "I'm not…we only came to confirm if he was alive…his father and brother are speaking with him."

Rya blinked, "...General Radahn?"

"The very same." Elia nodded, "...Have you been safe, with Diallos attending to you?"

Red touched pale cheeks as Rya bobbed her head into a nod, "More than safe… he's been kind to me."

"Good…and I do owe you an apology for the chaos I put you through. I'm sorry for the hell my fight with your father caused." Elia murmured.

Rya dipped her head, "...You have his rune, don't wage war on my home again, or against my mother."

"I can abide by that." Elia murmured, "...Is Rykard a kind man to his family?"

"...He tries?" Rya said, "He's awkward, stern, but not callous or cruel to us."

"Its an adjustment." Diallos interjected lightly on his patron's behalf, "I find him to be a troubled man more than a malicious creature in his current form."

"He has venom for his father," Elia muttered, "What have you seen of him, Diallos?"

"A man willing to be held accountable…and he loathes the cost this took on Rya and Tanith. He wouldn't walk this path twice, knowing the damage it took on his followers, family, and his mind." Diallos murmured, "...He's given me a chance to find a place here, I believe he can be afforded the dignity to gather his footing, and abide in peace."

"...I'm not here to unseat him. Ideally, he can reconcile with his mother and brother. I won't hold my breath for him making amends with Radagon, it'll be two proud fools butting horns in that dining room." Elia sighed "...is he not your husband?" Diallos muttered, "Have a bit of faith."

"What?" Rya croaked.

"Oh no." Elia groaned into her hands.

A General, a Serpent King, and an Elden Lord all sat at a table.

"My terms for this talk are simple." Radagon broke his silence, "The state of my marriage is off the table. Nor do you jab at your half siblings." He glowered at Rykard, "Am I clear?"

"Transparently so, father." Rykard rolled his eyes, looking to Radahn who simply sat there, sipping his water and watching the two with a wary expression.

"I see no issue, I'm simply here to see him." Radahn shrugged and nodded to Rykard, "...Are you doing well these days?"

"I've fared well for a dead man, yes. My family is safe, adjusting, and my home is secure from most assailants." Rykard's tone softened, "And you, you're shorter than when I last saw you."

"Morgott noted the same thing," Radahn deadpanned, "...At least I can embrace our mother again."

"...Ranni and Rennala, are they amenable to seeing me?" Rykard asked, tentative and tightly lacing his hands together.

"Mother wants to see you. Ranni I cannot speak for, but it would be good to see her all the same." Radahn assured, "None of us would cast you out… dare I say that death and and the fate you suffered has taught a lasting lesson." "...You're remarkably even tempered towards your killer, why?" Rykard pressed, eyeing Radagon intently.

"I was a rotting husk, brother." Radahn projected his voice, breaking their staredown with a huff, "Death was a mercy and I died in a fashion I wanted. On the battlefield and glorious."

"You wouldn't choose that death a second time." Rykard countered.

"No. I hope to die when I've gone grey and perhaps taken a consort, we shall see." Radahn mused, "I have plans, restoring Sellia would be a lofty goal to complete."

"You;ve never lost your fondness for that city." Radagon commented, "Do you wish to retake Caelid as your domain?"

"Yes. Leyndell is thoroughly ruined at present and holds nothing worth taking now. Caelid was where I fought, lived, and died. I'd like to return to my home one day and take the mantle of king." Radahn replied, " Liurnia is likely to be where you settle, no?"

"It will be. Sellen, Rennala, and Elia more or less hold the region." Radagon nodded in agreement "I would be happy there."

Rykard raised a brow, "Is that proper, residing in mother's kingdom in spite of your separation, with a new bride?"

Radagon would have replied if Radahn hadn't interjected, "Drop it, Rykard. Mald if you would like, yet don't aggravate a topic you would be as defensive over if we were to comment upon Tanith."

Radagon sent a grateful look towards Radahn, rising from his seat, "You have a daughter, Rya?" Rykard tensed, "Yes. What of it?"

"I would like to meet her, and leave you two to speak. I have the sense we've said all we can to one another civilly in one evening." Radagon replied evenly.

The serpent king studied his father intently, "Go. Speak softly and don't lay too many revelations at her feet all at once. She's of a delicate and curious constitution."

"Noted." With that, Radagon left the room with a terse exhale, weary and keen to be gone. The brothers were left to converse alone, the General an immovable wall against his brother's thorny temperament.

The silence lasted a long moment.

"Now. I wish to know something. Why did you feed yourself to a serpent, was it in the name of some mad research, or worship?" Radahn asked, blunt and to the point.

Rykard let his head hit the table, bracing himself for the lecture that was long overdue.

In the Serpent's Den

Ranni had long considered her alliance with the black knife assassins to be finished. It was to her confusion that one loomed in the foyer of the restored Carian Manor.

Her cowl was drawn back, revealing the angular and pale visage of the nearest thing to a matriarch the assassins possessed.

Una.

The woman was unarmed, and had arrived in good faith apparently, inclining her head respectfully to the princess and Blaidd.

"...Why have thou come here, our accord hath long since withered?" Ranni spoke, and studied the woman intently.

"I wish to speak with your mother, your majesty, and extend a proper olive branch to Liurnia." The assassin patiently explained, "My husband was in her service once."

Ranni paused, "I beg thy pardon?"

Pray tell, how had a Liurnian man consorted with the cold blooded folk of Nokron, obscured from the world for centuries?

"Rami." Una needed only to say the man's name, and Ranni's blood ran cold. The red eyed visage of a man who doled out death and execution immediately came to mind.

"Ah. He still lives?" Ranni beckoned Una to follow after her.

"He does, and awaits to see his niece." Una sighed, "I suppose her consort keeps her occupied these days, chasing down his children like herding stray sheep."

"Mount Gelmir." Ranni said, "You would find her there if it's an urgent matter."

"I've waited many years to see the girl, and my Rami has suffered a longer separation. We are a patient folk, and I hope he still has friends in this country despite the expulsion he suffered."

Ranni tightly clasped her hands together, "He served mother well in his tenure, nor does my mother hold any scorn for Elia. She did her queen a service in protecting and restoring the Academy into a functional institution, even if it houses those whom it expelled."

Una nodded, "I understand relations are tense between you and the prince of death. Have you settled into a peace?"

"...For the moment. I bid him no ill will presently. I merely wish to stay with my mother." Ranni dipped her head.

"I've no intention of undermining that want. I only hope to see Nokron established with a King and with stable relations in the age to come." Una mused.

"Is Godwyn to be that king?" Ranni asked.

"It falls to the one who commands destined death. Yes. He is the best candidate for that seat, which has laid empty since Marika's ascension." Una nodded, "What of you and your mother, is it a quiet life you two have claimed?" Her tone was light, devoid of judgment or mockery.

"Tis a safe claim to make, the academy has been decoupled from the monarchy. Sellen and Elia sooner have sway over the village and academy. Where my mother's influence reaches, I cannot say." Ranni answered with the tilt of her head.

"She still commands a great deal of respect and fondness, it's hard to villainize a woman whose greatest enemy was her grief."

Una murmured, pausing at the set of doors Ranni had lead them to, "May I enter?"

"...Thou may, I only ask that thee show my mother the respect she is due." Ranni reminded quietly, and pushed open the doors, "Mother, we have a guest."

Rennala lifted her gaze from the letter she drafted, brows raised and eyeing the woman critically, "Why does your order grace my home, Lady Assassin."

Una bowed at the waist, "Simply Una, your grace, a lady of Nokron and wife to your former sworn sword, Rami Okeanos."

Rennala tightened her grip on the desk with a hitch in her breath, "He yet lives?"

"...Yes, for a long time in exile, yet he has been by my side as an ever persistent companion." Una informed, "I'm here not as a harbinger for ill intent, your majesty, merely to extend his written word and good tidings. Yours is a family he still holds fondness for, and one I would want my people to carry good relations with."

"...Explain thyself, thou comes not as an assassin, but as an ambassador?" Rennala frowned, taking the offered scroll Una presented before her.

"I do. Nokron has been an exiled vault of a city for many centuries, I would like to associate with Liurnia at the very least, and coax the man back into the land of the living and the true stars once more."

Ranni quietly interjected, "Nokron is a city of many relics and arcane knowledge the academy never held immediate access to.

The scholarship alone would be of merit."

"...The city was key to unbinding thyself from the Greater Will, yes?" Rennala held her chin in thought, assessing Una with open scrutiny.

Pale eyes, moon white skin, and black hair the color of ink, she seemed as if she would wither under exposure to sunlight with translucent skin and her lithe build. There was beauty in that face, yet also something alien and nearly predatory.

"Rami, how is he these days?" Rennala asked. She had been fond of the man once, and never lost that doting affection for the finest knight at her disposal. He was unsavory, ruthlessly efficient, and terribly charming in sharp contrast to the bookish intellect and near axiomatic mind of Megathirio.

"Antsy, like a caged tiger." Una confessed, "He wants to see his niece, sooner than later…and the details of her circumstances compel curiosity and tension from him. I cannot hide the details of Radagon forever."

"Nor should thee, it is what it is…and a hard pill to swallow from his perspective." Rennala winced, knowing full well how the two could clash. Rami had been a bane to her former husband in war, and a constant hawk watching Radagon throughout the man's tenure as Rennala's husband.

Perhaps that caution had not been ill founded, but poorly spent when her mind slipped to grief, and he was expelled under the orders of feuding lords and frazzled academics.

Rennala raked a hand through her hair, exhaling a tight breath, "I am sorry. For what thy husband and his people endured without a protector."

"...It's an appreciated apology, but one he should hear from you one day, if I can compel him to leave with me." Una sighed.

Rennala clasped her hands together tightly, "He served me loyally from the day I knighted him. I will go to Nokron myself when

Elia's cohort sets out."

Una stared, "...Godwyn, Elia, Radagon, and you. Will that bode well, particularly if the princess accompanies you?"

Rennala pinched her brow, "We will manage, nor is Ranni obligated to follow me everywhere I travel."

The girl's reply died in her throat, and Una rubbed her temples with a sigh, "Tis at your own discretion how you travel there, we will welcome you all the same."

Melina held her face with a low groan, "...Elia lost her battle in the Erdtree, despite all those she had to slay and survive to make

it so far."

Godwyn nodded, "Unfortunately, yes. The end to her journey wasn't what either of you envisioned, yet she's made something of her situation. …He's fond of her, and never has Radagon failed to be a loyal consort."

"He made her into a vessel," Melina clenched her fists, "Is he absolved of that sin because he grew soft for a pretty girl?"

"No, yet I'm not poised to be his judge or kick a man in the teeth when Elia and him have already settled the matter. An unsteady coexistence morphed into a surprisingly reliable partnership - Morgott nearly died for staging an attack against her under his own hands." Godwyn explained, "He's not a danger to her, the two haven't come to blows since the incident at Leyndell, months ago now."

"...Morgott attacked her again?" Melina croaked, "How did it happen?"

Godwyn blinked, "...He snuck into the academy, passing for a simple refugee. Tell me, what were his past encounters with Elia?

I know he guarded the Erdtree, and bottlenecked access to Stormveil."

Her expression hardened, "He never confessed to hunting her down in the dead of night with his cavalry?"

Godwyn slowly shook his head, "...No, he hasn't. I cannot undo what he has done, yet keep word of this in confidence, please.

Radagon has little mercy for him after one attempt on Elia's life."

Melina grimaced, "If she hasn't told him, it must be out of some goodwill for your brother, or she is a more forgiving sort than I am."

Godwyn sent her a thankful look, "...She is a goddess now, and Radagon resumed his title of Elden Lord…even if the institutions of the Golden Order are now defunct beyond a god and consort. I've been in your charge's company since my revival, Fia was quick to introduce us and to return to her companion."

"...You two get along, despite the shared affection for Fia?" Melina raised a brow.

"We do, though Radagon sooner took issue with the favor Fia had than I. " Godwyn shrugged, " Lovers are not a scarce resource in my experience, and Fia is fair and charming, its only natural many are endeared to her."

"Pardon," Melina wheezed, "How did that come about?"

"The two were still repressed, awkward, and Elia dotes upon Fia and most folk with ease. A stiff and self isolated man was going to chafe at the revelation that his wife is a warmer presence than he had yet experienced." Godwyn explained, "And you, does she dote upon you?"

"The same as she would Millicent." Melina explained with a wry smile, "Fia dreamt with you for a long while…months even, what finally spurred you from death?"

"Time…Fia had a great deal of vigor to share in her slumber, yet my body was a derelict mass of foul and tainted flesh. Rebirthing was a laborious effort…and even to garner thought, an ordeal. I awoke soon after communicating with Fia in her dream." Godwyn recalled their encounter with a fond smile, "It was a pleasant thing to awaken to, than being alone under the dying boughs of the Erdtree."

"...I hope you don't hold any malice for its burning." Melina spoke softly, "It was my plot."

"No. Everything dies. My father, mother, even their empire." Godwyn's voice hardened, "I take little joy in it, yet that thing was a stagnant and unyielding noose my mother never found peace from. Let it burn, and we can rebuild something better in the ashes."

Melina swallowed hard, "You loved your mother, not the Golden Order."

"Correct. Ask Radagon the same question, and you might be surprised to find him more a man of law and structure than fanaticism." Godwyn explained, "A zealot would have a terror to Elia, a pragmatist and architect is another beast she can work with. He isn't a monster, merely an ass learning how to cohabitate with others." "A stunning endorsement." Melina replied flatly.

"It's an honest one." Godwyn drawled, "Now, I have a question for you, if I might pry?"

Melina nodded, "What are you curious to know?"

"Before you were a maiden… were your eyes always like this?" Godwyn asked, to the point and focused on her intently. The curve of her jaw, delicate nose and gold eye, all reminiscent of a face Godwyn wished he could see again.

"...No. I've not had both eyes and a proper body for an age, Godwyn." Melina confessed, presenting her burned hands to him, "My body burned, and my mother birthed me at the roots of the Erdtree and never left it." "...Do you recall much of your life before?" Godwyn pressed.

Fire was a consuming thing, and Melina shook her head, "I remember the task she gave me, and oft recall her words near sites of grace."

"...All of the demigods have been revived by some lingering grace." he spoke slowly, and gestured to her, "You resemble her, you know. Marika."

Melina's stomach dropped, and she wrung her wrists, "I'm hardly such a lofty character, Godwyn."

"You guided Elia to glory, and commanded the giant's flame. Are you truly that humble in your origins, Melina, however muddled they may be?" Godwyn gently clasped her shaking hand.

"I have no rune, no throne or title to claim. I was a sacrifice." Melina whispered. Her throat tightened, and her palms grew clammy. She was an errant spirit, with no claim or desire to glory.

"Yet here you stand, alive and clearly loved." Godwyn countered.

"...Don't tell anyone." she murmured, "Please. If I hold my silence regarding Morgott's underhanded attempt on Elia's life, you can keep quiet about this."

The prince faltered, "...Alright, why are you worried about others learning?"

"My champion killed an entire brood of demigods, and I guided her to do it." Melina replied, "I don't want the chaos of soothing those tensions and a family reunion in a twofold debacle."

Godwyn winced, and gently held Melina's shoulder, "Fair enough. Yet don't hesitate to lean upon us."

"...Thank you." Melina murmured, her chest aching and the notion of a sibling horribly foreign to her mind.

The entry hall of Rykard's castle was a mess of unconscious soldiers. Malenia sheathed her blade and watched Millicent intently for a moment, "You've yet to compensate for the leg's new weight, haven't you?"

The girl winced, "...Yes."

"You'll need to adjust your stance, push and use that leg's strength with your lunges, and though it may be awkward, your prosthetic will be the better sword arm despite the initial stiffness." The valkyrie instructed, "You fight competently, yet not to your fullest potential. Were you self taught?"

Millicent exhaled sharply through her nose, "Yes. Few else could teach me in the bogs of Caelid, my sisters and I learned together and haphazardly against the wildlife and monsters. I trained with Elia once she took me under her wing."

"You should never train alone now that you have others to lean on. It only embeds your errors." Malenia commented, "I doubt

Elia pushes you as much as she should, it's the nature of siblings, yet it makes for lackluster instruction."

Miquella watched the two, carrying a short scepter in his hands and laying the final words of the sleeping cantrip meant to keep the soldiers unconscious until Rykard had been found and deemed peaceful, "She fights fine." He commented, hoping to soften the blow of his sister's criticism.

"You aren't a swordsman." Malenia gently countered, "Fine is serviceable, but I doubt you only want to be a fine warrior, Millicent?"

"No, fine doesn't keep Morgott in check if he ever hunts my sister again." Millicent murmured.

"You were ambushed." Miquella reminded, "Try not lament that encounter so severely, you tried and it falls on more than you to keep Elia safe. No warrior can be an atlas, despite their skill." those words seemed to be intended for Malenia, and she crossed her arms with a defensive scowl.

The sounds of clashing steel had died, until the trio caught the scent of smoke and distant shouts. Malenia caught hold of Miquella before the boy could rush in and find his father, and Millicent sighed, "I'll find Radahn, it's safe to say we found our snake, he would be the only mage here, no?"

"Most likely." Malenia grimaced, in no hurry to find her half brother. Miquella once more was atop Malenia's shoulders, "...I hope father doesn't lose his temper."

"We can't control that facet of him, nor is Rykard any better in managing his ire for him. Give them time, and don't try to be a mediator. Radahn is here for that." Malenia instructed the two, her tone brooking no argument.

If she had inherited Radagon's pride and battle prowess alongside Radahn, Rykard had inherited the man's stubborness and biting temperament.

Diallos had coax Rya to sit, and the woman nursed a glass of water as she contemplated Elia's muddled confession of recent events.

"...You're a queen now?" she murmured, "And Rykard's step-"

"Fuck no." Elia grimaced, "I'm wedded to his father, but by Marika's tits, perish the thought of me being ushered into any maternal role to the demigods. Rennala is still very much alive and a respectable mother to them, and grandmother to you."

Rya exhaled in relief, "Thank the stars. What is she like, my grandmother?"

"She's melancholic, but terribly kind and very empathetic. You would like her." Elia assured, "If I'd known the relation, I'd have introduced you two while you still roamed Liurnia."

"You still could," Rya suggested, "Father doesn't obstruct me from leaving…I'd only request an escort."

Elia cast a sidelong glance to Diallos, "I have a feeling that would be very easy to arrange,"

The nobleman dipped his head with a bashful look, his face tinged a faint red about the cheeks as Rya kicked her feet in excitement at the prospect. Elia managed a small smile, and murmured, "It is good to see you again, both of you."

The pair blinked, and Rya murmured, "...I'm happy mother's knight didn't find you, it would have been sad to see you dead."

"Thank you. May this be the last time I make your home a chaotic mess." Elia muttered sheepishly, pausing when a knock rapped at their door, "Enter?"

The door creaked on its hinges, and Radagon slipped into the room quietly, glancing over Diallos and then to Rya as Elia reached out to take his hand. The silence wore on as the strangers appraised one another, and Diallos cleared his throat.

"Sir, meet the lady of the household, Zorayas." With a gentle flourish, he gestured to the bashful girl who stared at Radagon with equal parts curiosity and uncertainty.

The man seemed perplexed and weighed his words carefully, "...Good evening, my lady. " Radagon spoke quietly, finding a momentary comfort as he laced his fingertips with Elia's.

"...Are you here to make amends with my father, my lord?" Rya asked.

Radagon winced, "You needn't call me a lord. Yes, I am here to see the brothers reconciled, and to hopefully establish a dialogue with Rykard. It may be a while yet before he's particularly fond of my company however. That tension and animosity has run deep since I separated from Rennala, their mother."

"...Was it your choice to do so?" Rya murmured as she wrung her wrists, hunched over in wariness.

" No. Yet it's a decision I cannot undo after all that's happened." Radagon confessed, "...Are you happy here, as a family?"

"It varies." Rya admitted, "For a long while it was lonesome and cold here as the recusants dwindled in number. The manor is a warmer place with father back and no longer bound to the serpent…mother finally dances sometimes with him."

For her storied past, Rya had never seen Tanith sway or move with the rhythm of music, not until recent weeks when Rykard had the legs, energy, and devotion to indulge his wife's talents. It drew a strange yearning in the girl's chest, watching from down the hall to witness the first tender affection she could remember her parents sharing. The manor felt warmer and less foreboding on those days.

"I'm happier here than I've been in a long time, Radagon." Rya finally answered him.

"I'm thankful to hear that, thank you Rya."

Three cups of wine had lessened the sting of Radahn's tirade, yet Rykard felt compelled to drain the bottle directly at this point. "Yes, yes, I thrust myself and my family into an unending hell of my own construction for lofty ambitions that proved unattainable." he muttered, hissing as Radahn swiped the bottle from the mage.

"A hell you still live atop of, how potent is that beast even in death?" Radahn pressed.

Rykard sighed, "I don't know, I haven't returned to the chamber since my rebirth, nor do I wish to. This manor is far from useless, my studies and research prior to the shattering is still unrivaled and irreplaceable. I won't bring such destructive magic to Liurnia, or implore the wrath of an outer god to follow me home. Its already unwise to have your little goddess roaming about without consideration for the greater powers at play that see her as a tool."

"...do you have any tangible means of combating the gods?" Radahn froze, "You surely can't devour them, as you consumed how many Tarnished?"

"I don't know. Yet I would still be compelled to try, or to bar them from this world… Miquella's gold was a promising lead." Rykard muttered to his chagrin.

"...Speak to him about his research, he holds no love or worship for the divine, and might be aligned to your goals."

"The unalloyed brat is not a resource I will use."

"Are you so proud as to deny a solution and hamper your own research, brother?" Radahn challenged, "That stubborness is more characteristic of our father than you."

Rykard shot Radahn a dirty look, "Do not liken me to that craven man."

"Then stop acting like him at his worst, and be the adaptive genius I know my brother to be." "...You think that highly of my mind?"

"I always have, even if your methods weren't clean, you were effective until you fed yourself to a monster."

"Enough, I already confessed to it being a batshit and idiotic idea." Rykard grimaced.

"Good, and you'll be admitting until I've croaked and lie six feet under."

Bitter Confessions and Sweetened Sin

Of all questions, Rya seemed capable of asking the most pertinent and hard hitting mysteries Elia hadn't dared to ask of yet.

"...Leaving Queen Rennala is a heavy conflict between you and my father…but how did that come about? He laments her grief, yet never explains why you left beyond Marika summoning her leal hound." Rya winced at the words she recounted.

" From his perspective, it seems just as that. My departure was not planned, anticipated, or wanted. It came about all at once." Radagon was tense as he tightly clasped his hands together, "...I won't tell this story twice. Listen closely, and remember it well." His gaze was distant and nearly haunted when he looked to Rya, and then to Elia.

"...Do you want me to leave?" She asked softly, moving to rise until he caught her sleeve.

" It's a story you deserve to know, for the chaos it dealt to your home, and the pain it caused for the Queen we still love dearly." He gently pulled Elia back to sit with him, never releasing his hold on her sleeve until she clasped his hand once more. She dipped her head with a soft exhale, gently carding a hand through his hair as he gathered his thoughts.

The sentinel had been admitted without hesitation, a peaceful envoy from an allied nation was of no concern.

Radagon anticipated the routine word of Godfrey's correspondence, pausing at the golden seal stamped not with his lion sigil….but the impression of the Erdtree.

"...Marika sent this." He eyed the sentinel, holding the scroll tightly, "Why?"

"She never gave her reasons, she only commands you to read her message and return posthaste, milord." The sentinel was somber and dipped his head.

Radagon opened the letter with a heavy exhale. Marika's handwriting was unmistakable, and Radagon paled with each passing word. His eyes were dim, and he slowly closed the scroll, "...How long do I have?"

"Her summons are immediate." The sentinel dipped his head, "To return under escort, or in our custody, my lord."

He could fight, spill blood and break a peace that had lasted three centuries. War would drown Liurnia, kill his wife, slaughter his children.

Let it end with him.

"Grant me an hour with my wife, then I will be ready to depart." His tone was leaden, and the sentinel bowed before vacating the room.

Radagon's hands shook, and he took Rennala's face into his hands.

"...Beloved, what has happened, what does she want from thee?" Rennala whispered, gripping his wrists in a white knuckled grip.

"I've been summoned to Leyndell. Its not a point of negotiation, to refuse- Rennala, you know what her wrath would bring." Radagon's breaths were short and sharp.

"Best to face her wrath together than alone, you have done nothing to warrant being dragged back to her citadel in disgrace!"

Rennala countered, "Do not go where I cannot follow, please."

"It will be our heads if I refuse her," he whispered, "...Hold Liurnia, lean into our children and hold your sworn sword close. I…I can't guarantee what will happen to me. Yet defiance will be our execution."

Rennala embraced him tightly, her face damp and buried into his chest as Radagon held his wife like a lifeline.

"...May I impart one gift upon you, before I…before I depart?" He whispered, curling his hands tightly into her robe.

Rennala slowly nodded, "P-Please do…and try to return to me, even if it's a futile hope."

"If I ever shake off the chains of my other half, I will find you again." Radagon whispered, so close to spilling that terrible secret until his throat tightened.

Rennala didn't question his wording, lost in the warmth of his embrace. Radagon kissed her brow a final time, stealing every waking moment he could with the queen of the night.

An hour was not enough. A week wouldn't have been enough. Nothing would have been.

Radagon left with dignity and to love Rennala had been an act of defiance he took pride in. What better illustrated that fact than the rune he had forged for her?

Marika would be furious, and he would hold his head high until it rolled.

Radagon anxiously gripped the hammer in his hands, eyeing Marika across the throne room as the pair stood alone under the boughs of the Erdtree. Her guards dismissed, and Godfrey hadn't yet been seen.

Anxiety roiled in Radagon's stomach as he finally spoke, "...Where is he?"

Marika tensed her jaw, "Gone. Useless and spent with Stormveil secured." Her shoulders were taut and she refused to elaborate, "What am I to do with you? Flesh of my flesh, deviant and rebellious. Liurnia was to be a conquest, the fingers demanded as such! Instead you abscond away with a queen, decorate yourself as a king, and put three children in her?!"

Her snarl was as ferocious as Serosh's roar, and Radagon winced, "I brought the House of the Moon to heel-"

"You sired an empyrean. Do you understand the terror it was to hear a name spill from Enya's lips, one not of my line, not Godwyn, but a foreign princess by the name of Ranni?" Marika whispered, "Divinity is a lot we both were graced with, and you cast out that glory to take root in our one remaining rival."

Radagon grimaced, "Take my life, make a spectacle of the affair if you see fit, leave my family be." His grip shifted over the hammer, "If you dare raise a hand to Rennala, stars help you. My rage may not kill you, yet I will certainly see how close I can come to killing a god."

Marika's eyes widened, and in an instant she lunged to strike him across the jaw with a well placed kick, sending the man sprawling. She loomed with the prowling majesty of a lioness, hair gleaming and the muscles of her arms tensed as she hefted the hammer, "I hate to disappoint you, yet I need you alive."

Radagon swore, holding his jaw and tensed as he rose to his feet. Marika tugged him to eye level by his braid, "I need a consort, and clearly you are capable of fulfilling that role."

His blood went cold and his stomach churned in revulsion as he lashed out, his boot colliding with her chest as he reared back from her, "No. I made vows to Rennala, and will die to keep them if I must-"

"Martyrdom is terribly overblown and only makes for a lovely narrative in songs and poetry. If you die, what keeps Rennala and your spawn safe? What keeps the divine from puppeteering Godwyn or little Ranni into heirs for a new order?" Marika implored, "Be rational, and understand why you were made."

"To make you feel less alone." Radagon muttered darkly, "We are family, but I cannot do this for you."

Marika's smile was a bitter and sad thing, "We've no choice in the matter. Wed me, and Liurnian will exist in peace as a vassal."

"...What are your conditions?" Radagon grimaced.

Marika dipped her head, "...I need an heir the fingers will accept. You know what that entails. Fulfill that, and you can wander back to Liurnia for all I care, your children will never need to fear me and will be afforded the same status as the golden lineage."

Radagon felt sick, and eyed Marika with open disdain as he clenched his fists, "Draft the marriage contract, forgive me when I say this is a marriage I won't endow the formality of wedding. Have it drafted and signed, let us complete this farce."

"Very well." Marika uttered with all the somber resignation of a woman preparing for a funeral rather than a wedding.

There was little joy or morale in this tale, only an understanding of how helpless gods could be under the yoke of their patron.

Elia tightly wrung her wrists, Rya held a sobering look and Diallos appeared mortified by the truth of it all. Radagon had gone quiet, "...One can understand why she snapped, and how Rennala broke so quickly. Her life was upended by factors beyond her control…and I failed to keep Marika in check to ever return to Liurnia without fear of what the woman would spiral into."

"You couldn't be an Atlas." Elia murmured, "...It was always odd and inexplicable, the tension that marred the academy afterwards, uncle and father were ever more on edge. They saw the divisions that were looming…and Rami grew more waspish and protective. It only accelerated the coup against Rennala and his expulsion."

"...I'm sorry." Radagon sighed as he pressed his palm to his face.

"I don't blame you for that, not anymore." Elia murmured, "...Marika may shoulder that weight, and even then, were her hands not as tied as yours?"

"I intend to ask her many questions about her circumstances, I was her other half, we could have managed something if she had trusted me in a time of duress." Radagon muttered.

"You absconded away to a country with little prompting and established a dynasty." Diallos countered then, swallowing hard, "Could that have been a contributing factor. You loved Rennala, and Marika found herself without her long time general and confidante."

Radagon was tense and set his jaw, nodding for Diallos to continue, " Say your piece."

"An action borne out of love was still consequential…and unintentionally selfish. Marika lost her trust in you long before you lost your trust in her." Diallos whispered.

Radagon's shoulders slumped, and he held his face with a low groan, "Fuck."

Elia gingerly took him by the shoulders, "I think that's as much conversation we can sustain today. May I impose and claim a guest room, Rya?"

"Y-Yes, of course, down the hall and make a right, the recusants were housed in that wing. You may find Patches though…" the girl nodded quickly.

"He's annoying but harmless." Elia assured, "Thank you." She coaxed Radagon to his feet, and he braced an arm around her shoulders to keep close, not uttering a word.

"...Come to kill Rykard twice, have you?" Patches predictably was couched on a chaise in one of the lounge areas adorning the wider intersections of the palace halls.

Elia sent him a withering look, "No. Are you still fan dancing with those castanets around Tanith?"

Patches barked a laugh, "Afraid not, she's found herself a dance partner again now that her husband has his legs. What are you here for, little bird?"

She soured at the nickname, "Call me Tarnished at this rate."

"No~" he sent her a shiteating grin and eyed her stiff companion, "You've got a fancy for redheads now?"

"Yes." She deadpanned, "I was here to ensure Radahn could reunite with his brother. Radagon also held an interest in seeing his son." Elia gently patted his arm, and Patches paled.

"The fuck?" He sat up straighter from his crouch, "What have you been nosing into since we last talked?"

"Too many things to recount, I'm taking a room- don't disturb us unless it's a crisis." Elia continued on her way, and Radagon eyed Patches in passing.

"Tanith keeps a strange court." He muttered.

"She does, but it makes for interesting conversation. I was never bored in the week I spent here being a nosy menace." Elia commented, "It's good to see you alive, Patches."

The merchant cocked his head, "You too…it'd be boring if you'd been eaten or gobbled up by some other monstrosity."

Elia waved over her shoulder, shutting the door behind her with her foot as she ushered Radagon inside.

When the door shut, Patches rose to his feet with a ragged sigh, scuttling off to find Diallos and pester him for an explanation.

Lenore sat astride her wolf, riding by moonlight with Godwyn following on foot, nimble and light on his feet.

"Gideon, he was a scholar in his first life. He's earned himself a less acclaimed reputation now?" Godwyn asked. He had agreed to the search as a courtesy, it was fair enough to earn his keep here, yet he had little time to ask for details from Sellen.

The captain was a soft spoken woman, and fair featured, nodding to Godwyn, "He slew my village in pursuit of Miquella." She murmured, "He is still a man of knowledge, yet will employ more brutal means of attaining it when met with resistance."

Godwyn exhaled tightly, "I wasn't aware the albinuarcs came here as recent refugees."

"We may have settled here in time, knowing someone welcomed us, yet we were pushed out rather than actively seeking a new home." Lenore grimaced, keeping a tight hold on her wolf's pelt, "...The maiden that appeared, is she faring well since we took her in?"

"Melina is fine, if not weary from travel." Godwyn murmured.

"It isn't the first instance a woman has appeared at my gate, worn from travel." Lenore murmured.

"Is it a common thing?" Godwyn raised a brow.

"Not since the village was established. Elia showed one morning in rougher condition, her horse sent ahead of her with a valuable parcel." Lenore shook her head, "Few things rattle me, but her being ambushed and an assault on the academy are things that only remind me of how quickly the rug can be pulled out from under you."

"That fear drives you to find Gideon?"

"In some ways, yes. If he's on the move, I want him pinned before he realizes who we house and how vulnerable we could be." Lenore murmured.

"Elia isn't so delicate. Nor is Radagon a slouch in combat."

"And every refugee and guardsmen in that academy might find themselves as a target. I don't wish to see a battle or raid rattle our home in its infancy." Lenore replied, her words patient and informing.

Godwyn winced, "Your point is well taken…and we have been idle until provoked this winter."

"Its not a fault we can pin upon anyone. Demigods rising left and right, gods are being crowned…none of us expected this. We simply hoped an Elden Lord would rise. Instead the whole foundation has to be rebuilt…and that creates a far less certain path than expected."

"To complicate things, Rennala regained her sanity, Ranni stands with her, and we have the remnants of lesser cults still marauding about." Godwyn murmured.

"...Rennala doesn't worry me, its the cults and warlords I detest." She murmured, "The Queen is sane, and holds a strong rapport with Elia despite the marital debacle."

"A fair point." Godwyn relented, "...Do you have faith in her to resume the mantle of Queen?"

"No. She won't hold the same seat as she did, and seems to openly admit and accept that. The Academy owes much to her, but it isn't hers alone now."

"It isn't solely Sellen's either. It seems to be handled by Sellen academically, you run it militarily, and Elia falls somewhere between an ambassador and arbitrator." Godwyn noted.

"It's a functional structure, and one I prefer. There's no deference or piety, simply respect and an effort to collaborate." Lenore nodded, "She's my friend, not my goddess."

Their conversation ended in amicable silence. They continued along the trail of a reported sighting of a tarnished consorting with the perfumers. Boggart had managed to procure the rumor from a fellow merchant, it wasn't everyday fine quality perfume could be sold in the land between.

Whatever deal that had transpired, there was activity and life there, evidenced by a caravan rolling along the beaten path towards the ruin. It was not an unarmed procession. A few armored tarnished held formation, and an omen killer was amongst their ranks.

The more Lenore and Godwyn watched, the deeper their guts sank. Lanterns and braziers lit the blooming encampment, palisades and crude watchtowers had been established.

It was too early to see if Gideon had capitalized on his old partnership for resources and shelter, yet it was readily apparent to see that the perfumers were consolidating within the plateau, and were growing. Lenore shook her head, "...Sellen needs to hear of this, we have a new neighbor, and its neutral at best."

Godwyn glared at the visage of the omenkiller, and his thoughts wandered to Margot and the handful of omens and misbegotten finding tentative acceptance in Raya Lucaria.

"They won't tolerate those they see as afflicted, will they?" Godwyn whispered with unbridled contempt.

"I don't know, yet I wouldn't hold your breath… your brother wouldn't be easily slain by them, most of my village was sick and afflicted since birth." Lenore gripped his arm, before the prince could get any ideas of heroics or restitution, "We aren't here to draw first blood in war, Godwyn."

He grimaced, "Understood. "

With great reluctance, he turned on his heel, finding the distant smell of ointments and physicks wafting from the caravan repugnant.

Only perfume could sweeten the stench of sin.

Sir Gideon Ofnir

The perfumers were heavily anointed in floral and spiced scents, an overwhelming cohort that made Gideon yearn for his library of aged parchment and the scent of lantern oil.

His encampment finally had settled with his old associates, the perfumers fled Liurnia as the monolith of Raya Lucaria began to stir once more. The albinuarics had already purged any stragglers from the ruin of their village, finally able to bury and honor their dead in peace.

An academy headed by a Graven witch, its guard a combination of tarnished and outcasts lead by an albinuaric woman, and somewhere in that mix, the one Tarnished to slip into the Roundtable uninvited. None of these things were reassuring to the man, and the rapport of its community had been difficult to slip through. His first scouts went silent, turncoats content to live at the goodwill of their new patron it seemed.

The village was a town now, liable to begin erecting walls and establishing formal villages in the countryside.

Gideon would have rather taken residence in Leyndell than an overly sweetened ruin, yet the city was in shambles…and had an interesting cohort of souls pass through its halls in the waning days of autumn.

The Tarnished had slain the veiled monarch and then set fire to the tree. Yet she had never emerged a victor, never taken the throne. Gideon's scrabbling and surviving informants that hid in the ashen capital hadn't dared to approach the tree, yet they still reported something of note.

Elia hadn't emerged alone.

A man with the unfortunate omen of red locks had emerged from the Erdtree, and taken the woman with him when they departed. Weeks later, Fia had been spotted in the company of an unfamiliar man, and they joined the growing assortment of demigods traveling with the Tarnished.

Then his scouts had gone quiet. Slain and dead at the city gates. Whatever lived in Leyndell had found them in its exit by midwinter.

The rumors around the academy were also informative, if not heavily skewed. Elia had returned to Liurnia alive, and the Carian Queen had departed for the interior of her kingdom. Now wherever the tarnished went, there was always the red haired man she consorted with, Radagon.

The woman was in the custody of the second Elden Lord.

Gideon's stomach sank when a name finally could be pinned to the illusive man, and pondered why Elia wasn't a dead woman. Though there was a bitter silver lining, a fanatic of the order would hardly be a pleasant jailer for the woman who spat in the face of grace by bedding Fia and burning the Erdtree. For as much grief and annoyance as Elia had caused, she likely suffered tenfold under Radagon.

For now, Gideon would watch and wait.

Elia was a loathsome pain, yet Radagon had emerged from that tree, alive and empowered to have restored the ring with the runes he'd won. The Elden Lord was the man Gideon hoped to seek an audience with, and determine if he was a viable king, or another obstacle to hunt as the albinuarics had been.

The letter was simple in its contents, stamped with the ear sigil of his seal, and dispatched through the hands of a scout. Gideon rested his chin in his hands, contemplative and hopeful to hear word soon. There was no secrecy or discretion to be had in an encampment of this size, yet they could disband and scatter, Raya Lucaria could not.

Gideon's prior travels had been a weary effort from departing the Roundtable, to surveying the remains of Ephael, the city cast open by force from an unknown invader. The aeonia had bloomed and withered, the Haligtree's womb barren and empty as rumor had suggested.

Malenia had fought here, and she had died here.

Elia had blocked yet another path, and withheld knowledge that would have been priceless.

The woman could burn, and Gideon cursed himself for yet another dead end regarding the whereabouts of Miquella. Unalloyed gold would have been a boon to casting out the meddlesome nature of gods, yet without the demigod, Gideon would have to contend with the Elden Lord that still lived.

He prayed Radagon was a saner man than the suicidal wishes of Marika.

Patches was quick to find Diallos, poking his head into the drawing room, "You're not busy wooing your lady, are you?"

Diallos scowled, thanking the gods Rya had departed to check in on her mother, "No, what is it?"

Patches pulled over a chair and Diallos suppressed a groan at the thought of the merchant settling into longer conversation. It was slim pickings for company, and more often as of late it was Diallos who heard Patches' idle prattling and thinly veiled yearning for Tanith.

"So. The red haired man on our Tarnished's arm is Radagon. The Radagon?" The merchant almost grinned at the absurdity.

"Yes." Diallos gravely confirmed, "She's found herself a husband in him. Rykard will be sore about that subject." He warned.

"Well, she seemed to talk to you, what happened to have her toting about arm candy and arriving with a posse of demigods?" Patches pried the man for details.

Diallos raked a hand through his hair, "She holds the Elden Ring, and like Rykard, every slain demigod has revived. This was to be a family reunion, Patches. Clearly it went to hell."

"That Radagon fellow looked sick and awful, Rykard unloaded that terribly onto him?" Patches muttered.

"No," Diallos sighed, "He gave us all a deeply personal story I shan't share."

"Must be a shitty one if he seems out of sorts and wilted against Elia." Patches cocked his head at the noble, "What's your measure of them?"

"Clumsy guests who should tread carefully. They're no harm to us however, Rya seemed to enjoy meeting Lord Radagon…and it is good to know Elia didn't get herself killed in her flight from the manor."

"Mn, I'm still a bit ticked she drove Tanith looney for a while-" Patches huffed and squawked as Diallos threw a citron at the man from the nearby platter.

"No amount of charm or weaseling is going to land yourself in Lady Tanith's bed, you lout. She is happily wedded!"

Patches raised his hands in surrender, "I can still care for my lady patron, and have abandoned that doomed pursuit!"

"Good, Rykard would flay your sorry ass alive if he ever heard this, nor do I want to burn another corpse." Diallos grimaced.

"That was nasty business you got roped into doing. Why did you feel so generous to our Lord?" Patches questioned in turn.

"...It felt right, he was trying to clean his mess. A man can be offered a hand up, even when he still terrifies me."

"You're a better man than me. Even if they had a sweet daughter, I'd still keep a wide berth from a once mad king."

"You're also a staunch opportunist with no scruples to be had." Diallos deadpanned, "...Did they find a room to rest in, Elia and Radagon?"

"Yeah, they're fine and have privacy. She's no fun to rile up when she's this tense and has a handful of a person to tend to." Patches bemoaned the boredom he would be subjected to for the next few hours.

Elia did have a handful, rather her arms were filled with the lax form of her husband. Coaxing him into bed was never an issue these days, yet sleep hadn't taken him. Rather, he laid his head atop her chest once she'd removed her armor and shed filthy boots and trousers.

Radagon quietly spoke, "...I doubt your family will approve of this match, given my hist-" Elia lightly interrupted him as she held his cheek, "Enough. I'm not a blushing maid asking for her father's blessing. Despite the inception of it all, you are mine, and I'm happy to say that."

Radagon nodded, tightening his grip on her waist , "...A god won't ruin my marriage a second time. I swear to you ."

"I have no fear of that…" she murmured. Her thoughts lingered to Rennala. Was there no hope of reconciling for the pair?

"You always catch your lip on your teeth when you worry. What is it?" Radagon pressed her, brows furrowed.

"Are you and Rennala truly…truly beyond reconciliation?" Elia murmured.

"She knew my circumstances and I failed to return to her… I wouldn't try to rekindle a romance with someone who was undone by me once already." Radagon shook his head, "Even under grimmer circumstances and expectations, I was promised to you by reforging the ring. We've been bound since then, and remain as such, body and soul." His lips brushed her jaw, and he exhaled in relief once Elia kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, for standing by your word, and hearing my worries." She murmured, holding Radagon tightly as she sank into bed with him, only to grimace at the scent of fouled water and cinders clinging to their clothes.

"...Radagon?"

"We're in sore need of washing." He nodded in agreement, trusting Rykard to have added the convenience of internal plumbing.

The man gripped Elia's hand, lightly tugging her to follow him in search of a tub. Her eyebrows rose at the thought, yet she felt no need to object, and offered, "I can tend to your hair."

"Thank you."

Volcano Manor held as many luxuries as it did horrors. A hot bath and well appointed guest chambers were some of those comforts.

Radagon cast a sidelong glance to Elia, the woman across from him in the sizable basin of a tub. It seemed Rykard's decadent tastes hadn't faltered in the passing centuries, the tub would have been a pool to a small child, and had ample room for the pair.

The weight of grime filth was a relief to slake off, the fouled water of the sewers had reduced Radagon's hair to dull rust hue, and likely had ruined the tunic and garments he wore.

Mercifully, Elia's armor seemed to shed the grime and taint with ease, though her clothes were in as much of a sorry state despite being carried for the latter half of their trek through the cistern. He had a proper look at her ribs and chest once more, any lingering worry easing as finally, the scarring she sustained from Leyndell had faded into faint ivory lines against dark skin.

"Do they still ache?" he asked, lightly skimming his fingertips over the shadow of the old wound.

Elia shook her head, "No, they haven't ached in months. I'm only sore from fighting Morgott, in all frankness. The bastard's strikes were a bitch to the stomach and my back." she admitted, "Why do you ask?"

He exhaled tightly, "...Simply curious, if needed I could read another incantation." his palm was warm against her skin, pleasantly so as Elia settled against his side. Her cheek settled against his shoulder and Radagon eyed the old scars across her body in gentle assessment.

"I'm no stranger to walking off wounds for a week or two, it's not the first time I've had to power through Morgott's damage."

Radagon paused, "You faced him frequently enough for it to be routine?"

Elia's eyes widened, and she held her face with a tired sigh, "Don't single him out for a past conflict, please."

Radagon tensed, "I won't, yet I would like to know what he did. He held off countless tarnished, and you were no exception to his perceived duties to the Golden Order." he gently shook her shoulder, "Please, tell me what happened."

"We fought three times. Stormveil and Leyndell were our formal duels. He…He did single me out in the field once. I hadn't yet found Malenia and Miquella, it was just after returning from Mount Gelmir." "...How many runes did you have at the time?" Radagon whispered.

"Four. You can see why he took the initiative to hunt me down." Elia muttered.

"How did he corner you, and was he alone?"

Elia nodded, "...He ambushed the cabin I had fashioned into a safehouse, one of a few scattered hovels fit to camp within and have a proper chance to recover in. I wasn't a welcome face in the hold and didn't go there unless I needed to speak with Enia and Roderika. Even then, letters were safer until the time came to burn the tree."

Radagon nodded for her to continue, " You were exposed, between sanctuaries and alone. He leapt at the opportunity."

She exhaled tightly, her breath hissing between her teeth, "He had his men with him. The Knight's Calvary rode with his alias, Margit the Fell, and were another precaution to keep the Tarnished on edge and defensive. I leapt out a window in the dead of night, and sent the runes ahead on Torrent to deliver them to Sellen if I was to die that night, or be captured."

"...You would have been revived, why was death a risk in this mess and not a means of escape once the Runes were en route to her?"

"It should have been, and I would have indulged that option until I had a black knife's blade to my throat and was in shackles."

Elia murmured, "I don't take pride in running, I was outnumbered and outplayed by a man who's done this hunt for centuries."

Radagon grimaced, and muttered, "How Morgott earned clemency from you is beyond me. How did you escape and distract him from the prize he sought?"

"Simple. I baited him and kept the bastard talking with a false surrender. I made him raid the cabin for the runes…and handed over a keepsake that seemed valuable enough to house them." She loathed that she still hadn't found her mother's diadem, yet raiding the palace had been a lesser priority than finally taking the crown, "...Morgott is a terribly chatty sort, and as prone to monologing as Gideon. He would have released me if I handed over the runes, nor do I think he took any joy in hunting a woman down like this. Yet he's driven and married to his sense of duty."

Radagon frowned, turning her to face him, "What did you distract him with, Elia?"

She exhaled tightly, "A hexed jewelry box. It was my mother's and one of the few direct relics we still possessed from Knossos. It seemed to catch Morgott's attention and sold the ruse well for all of ten minutes." "Would a box alone have you this morose for having lost it?" He raised a brow.

"No. It held her diadem and jewelry, they'd have been precious to a priestess to wear as holy regalia. Much like a finger-maiden's veil." Elia explained, "...I was fine by the end, Melina came to my aid, and I managed to muddle my way back to Raya Lucaria."

Radagon sighed, "She's saved your skin many a time, hasn't she?"

Elia managed a wry smile, "She has, I was fortunate she found me, or I very well might still be bumbling about the outskirts of

Stormveil."

He drew her close, murmuring, "You'd have found your way to Liurnia at the very least, to return home."

She shook her head with a small laugh, "You'd find it terribly predictable of me, I went to Raya Lucaria once Godrick was dispatched."

He nearly smiled at that, and murmured, "Did you ever recoup the memento Morgott took?"

"...No. I didn't." she sighed.

"Hmn. Likely it's somewhere in the palace, given Morgott took up residence there." Radagon murmured, "Are you wary of entering Leyndell again?"

Elia slowly nodded, "...That tree is dying, but what still stirs within it?"

"...Not much, not from what I saw when I stormed off into the tree after we fought. I'll find the jewelry box for you."

"I'm not sending you into that city alone." Elia muttered, "...Thank you for being willing to find it."

"You've returned me to all of my children. It's the least I can do." Radagon replied, pressing his brow to hers.

Fia was stern and held herself tightly when Godwyn returned to their shared quarters, "You believe you found Gideon?"

"An omenkiller and caravan of tarnished and perfumers seem like probable associates. They know Liurnia isn't a stomping ground for the taking, and haven't reared their heads in the albinuaric village since it was retaken and memorialized. I imagine perhaps a hundred people populate that camp." Godwyn grimaced.

"...What troubles you about Gideon?" Fia asked.

"His associates. Their predilection to kill anything deviant and his willingness to use something as vile as an omenkiller. A quarter of this town would die if they had their way, between the albinuarics, omens, and misbegotten." Godwyn shook his head.

Fia grimaced, "He held no love for my faith and work. I cannot say I would mourn him if he perished. What do you intend to do?"

"...For the moment, we wait and see how Sellen and Lenore will handle him. I would dispatch him and put every omen killer to the sword if it were my decision." Godwyn lamented his role as a bystander, and asked, "What was your experience with the man?"

"Antipathy and perpetual distance until Elia arrived." Fia sighed, "He took issue with a tarnished being slipped in the back door by Melina…Eventually I too was driven out as Nepheli was."

"He was the leader of the Roundtable then, or held seniority." Godwyn muttered, "How did he meet Elia by chance, if she appeared uninvited?"

Fia's cheeks reddened sharply, holding her face with a sheepish look.

The first night spent within the hold had been a pleasant one, Elia's arms were snug around the woman's waist, her face pressed the deathbed companion's shoulder in the most restful slumber she'd been graced with since her revival. Fia was the first to awaken, gently carding her hand through the new Tarnished's choppy locks with a breathless laugh. It wasn't a common occurrence for a new face to linger so long in her embrace, much less to dote upon the fair and austered woman tainted by death.

In slumber, the striking features of the woman were softened and stripped of the weight of exhaustion. Sweet dreams suited

Melina's new friend, and their warmth was a lovely thing to be given. To be held and sweetly kissed, it was reverence and holy in Fia's eyes, and lovely to be reciprocated even if to make the Tarnished feel less alone for a night. However, while the kindling maiden had given the pair their privacy, another soul was less polite.

The firm thud at Fia's door broke the sanctity and peace of her morning, and the woman sighed, "Who is it?"

The sharp intonations of Gideon's voice emanate through the door as the handle turned, "Tis I, now who are you hiding away in he-" his voice died in his throat to see a woman in Fia's bed.

Silence persisted with a leaden weight, and Fia kept the blanket tugged over Elia's bare form, "Surely you can wait, Sir Gideon." Fia's tone took on a rare sharpness, and the man exhaled tightly as he leaned into his cane.

"I think not. A new face never shows here uninvited." he gruffly countered, "You, rise and explain yourself, Tarnished!"

A sharp groan of annoyance left the Tarnished, and she cast a withering look over her shoulder as she rose, keeping her back to the man. Gideon's stare was heavy even through the dark recesses of his helm, studying the stranger with no hesitation and open scrutiny.

Broad shoulders, a strong and toned back marked with faint scars, her frame an athletic build and strong arms held Fia even still. A graceless set of blue and green eyes settled on Gideon, still addled by the fague of sleep, and little patience was present as she slipped out of bed and tugged her tunic over her form, "You wish to talk, then talk. Who are you?"

Gideon peered up at the woman, realizing her height and tightening his grip on the scepter, "Gideon Ofnir, senior member of the

Roundtable Hold. Who are you, to appear uninvited with less decorum than a squatter?"

She exhaled softly, already feeling the beginnings of a headache brewing, "Elia Okeanos, former denizen of Liurnia. I didn't realize I was intruding, Fia welcomed me with open arms."

"A necrophile is not the deciding party in this matter, Tarnished." Gideon grimaced, his tone heavy and laden with contempt for the stranger. Elia's brows shot up at the harsh insult, and she frowned at the man.

"Yet you dictate who comes and goes from this place?" She asked, tone uncertain and her form tensed.

Gideon exhaled sharply, "Allow me a word of advice as your senior. This hold is safe and you are a house guest at best, having yet to earn your keep much less welcome to this place, Tarnished." "...Yet to earn my keep," Elia muttered under her breath.

"Are you aggrieved? You are transient, no different than any other straggler thinking to us as no more than shelter from the rain." Gideon shook his head, "...And quite quick to fall into the arms of a warm body." His eyes settled on Fia, perplexed by whatever unseen charm the woman possessed to be so adept at snaring a pretty new bedmate.

Elia stared at Gideon, "You're maidenless, aren't you?"

The old man stared, "What hellish pit did you crawl from, you tactless little wretch?"

"Vallis." Elia deadpanned, "I'll be leaving soon enough."

Fia interjected then, "She is here at my pleasure, Sir Gideon. I ask that you bid her pardon and the courtesy of our hospitality."

"I grant her none. She treads here of her own accord, and will be afforded no quarter of my resources or knowledge. Take care that she does not step out of line, Fia." Gideon drawled, "This is a safe place, for those who are welcome."

Elia sighed, "Understood."

Gideon took his leave, pinching the bridge of his nose with a terse exhale and feeling the beginnings of a headache brewing.

This woman was going to be a handful, wasn't she?

Godwyn snorted, "A very conditional host, isn't he?"

"Immensely." Fia sighed, "Transactional to be specific. He and Elia never quite improved their rapport, Enia was more helpful to her than him."

"He won't be mourned when he dies, will he?" Godwyn spoke with unnerving certainty.

Fia shook her head, "No, not by our ilk here. Will you slay him?"

"Tis a matter of when, not if."

Negotiation

Sellen was growing tired of the litany of letters cluttering her desk. A note had been dispatched to Nepheli some days prior, and Sellen hoped her daughter would return sooner rather than later to convene with the Lady of Stormveil.

Lady Nepheli,

Elia and her entourage will be returning within a week or so from Mount Gelmir. Thank you for your word of caution. The perfumers and omenkillers seem to be encamped within the Altus Plateau with no confirmed sighting of your father, yet.

Bear in mind, Elia travels with a consort by the name of Radagon. He is a friend and ally, despite the ill omen of his name and emergence from the Erdtree. Trust in Elia and have her explain the matter to you when a meeting can finally take place. It is a story best heard in person.

-Sellen, Headmistress of Raya Lucaria.

Little did they expect a courier to arrive at the village's entrance within days, donned in the garb of Gideon's scouts, the sigil of the eye foreboding to witness.

Lenore's hands were tightly clenched as she stared down the newcomer, "Forgive me, yet I do not bid you welcome to this place, stranger. What does your lord want?" Her wolf was flush to her side, hackles raised and her few guardsmen alert and watching the lone scout warily.

The courier lifted their helm, baring a young and plain face, a Tarnished, "Merely passing along his word, ma'am." the young girl stepped forward, "Tis intended for the Elden Lord, he resides here, yes?"

Lenore closed her hand over the scroll, "Yes, he resides here. Why do you seek an audience with the man?"

"Lord Gideon wishes to see who rules the land, and reforged the ring." the girl dipped her head, finding Lenore's silver gaze unnerving and venomous.

"Radagon will receive his message as soon as he returns." Lenore curtly replied, "Your lord will have to suffer the wait." The courier blinked, "Where is he, if not here?"

"Tis not for me to say, and for your many fellow scouts to find out if you have the capacity to do so." the captain crossed her arms, "Go. You've done your task."

Like a kicked hound, the courier stepped back, managing a feeble farewell before placing her helm back over her head. As she retreated, Lenore exhaled tightly, pondering what sort of organization sent a Tarnished who was barely older than a child to send a message into potentially hostile territory.

"Report to me when she crosses over into Altus, and ensure none of Gideon's vagrants linger in the shadows." Lenore grimaced, stalking off to find Sellen.

The headmistress eyed the seal with a growing pit in her stomach, "...You're certain none saw you and Godwyn?"

"I am. We watched at a distance and with great caution, Gideon's informants are numerous, yet they are not assassins and masters of reconnaissance." Lenore crossed her arms, "...The courier came here asking for Radagon by his title. Not Elia."

Sellen lifted her gaze from the scroll, "...He wants to speak man to man, with whom he thinks is King here."

Lenore held a wry smile, nodding, "I didn't possess the heart to correct the misinformed girl."

"Good." Sellen mused, "Better to keep him in obscurity. You conveyed it would be some time before Radagon returned?" "I did… you intend to save that message for him?" Lenore raised her brows.

"I do. Prying into correspondence is a poor practice I won't engage in with an opponent. This is for Elia and him to settle, we merely need to prepare in the interim." Sellen sighed, loath to let Gideon's correspondence lie in obscurity, and even more reluctant to lose the confidence of her child.

"I'll have the palisades erected today. If we pool more of your mages, we may have a proper gate erected by the end of the week." Lenore suggested.

"Use them at your discretion, the sooner we have this village fortified, the better… Do you know the whereabouts of Godwyn and

Morgott presently?"

"Godwyn likely returned to Fia, I expect Morgott to be in the outskirts, he's made a habitable cabin for himself." Lenore nodded.

"...I'd like to speak with them in honest terms, beyond you and the best of your tarnished, they are the most able warriors we have." Sellen admitted, knowing if she had set aside her hostilities to see Radagon for his undeniable skill, she may yet have to grapple with the omen.

It'd have been rude to refuse the summons of the Lady who hosted them. Yet Elia's stomach churned at the thought of facing Tanith once more. The invitation to morning tea was answered, and awaited with tense anticipation.

Elia sat across from Tanith that very morning, garbed in the heavier robes favored by the manor's women given how ruined her personal clothes had been in the ascent up the mountain. Hands tightly clasped and watching the unmasked woman carefully.

Elia observed how Tanith's towering knight stood at the lady's side before she finally cleared her throat to break the silence.

"...I owe you an apology for the chaos I caused you, if nothing else." she murmured.

"You can't hardly mean that. You sought a rune and said damn the consequences of doing so." Tanith curtly replied, "Rykard's auspicious revival is a boon, yet not one to be accredited in the forgiveness of your transgressions."

"Alright." Elia replied, staring at Tanith, "I can't contest that. I was just relieved to see Diallos had found Rya and brought her home, while Patches was somehow still kicking and not dead in a gutter."

Tanith nodded shortly, "Diallos has done well to attend to her, yes. A fine lad, and a peg above most of his brethren in exile.

Patches…well he will never not be amusing. Now, what is it you hope to do here, beyond accosting my husband again?"

"I was merely a guide for Radagon and Radahn." Elia shrugged, "I want nothing from Rykard, and don't wish him any harm now that he isn't cannibalizing recusants left right and center."

The lady of the manor winced at the mention of the serpent, and begrudgingly shared that relief with newfound clarity. It'd have been a waste to see Diallos eaten, Patches mangled when the oaf had lifted her spirits when few else could in her daughter's absence. "It shall be peace then, you won't disturb my home again?" "I won't set foot here unless invited." Elia assured.

"Rya is fond of you." Tanith sighed, "I will suffer your presence for her sake. Yet why is Rykard's father upon your arm these days? The man was hardly the romantic in our fleeting encounters. Forgive me when I say the statues of him were finer company than his dour temperament."

Elia took a heavy sip of her wine, "He was treated rather terribly in his past marriage in Leyndell. I haven't been perfect to him, nor him to me, yet we manage an amicable coexistence."

"Words to never tell Rykard." Tanith muttered, "He's never stomached the thought of his father finding love outside of the perfection of Queen Rennala."

Elia's mouth went dry, and the silence earned a raised brow from Tanith as she spoke, "You aren't as impassive and stoic as you believe yourself to be."

The tarnished tightly held her glass, "...May I ask a personal question I have little privilege to ask of you?" "Well, we are already here. Ask." Tanith nodded, resting her cheek in her palm.

"When did you realize you loved Rykard?" Elia spoke quietly.

Tanith blinked soft and slow, the memory a warm and unbidden thing to recall, "When he asked me to join him as family."

Elia stared, "That was how he proposed to you?"

"Yes. I cannot excuse the pits of madness he fell into, and what we indulged. Yet we have always been together through pleasure and pain, Tarnished. I shan't lose him a second time." Tanith sternly reminded, "You've grown to love your husband, tis as plain as day."

In no place to contest her, Elia sipped her wine and admitted softly, "I have."

"Take pride in it. It's far easier to weather an age together than alone." Tanith advised, "You've indicated your desire for peace, is your husband of the same mind?"

"I'll never indulge him to be a tyrant. Yes, presuming your household isn't prone to launching another inquisition, I see no conflict to be had with Rykard holding the region. In all candor, we have nothing to do here, and few people would settle here outside your stewardship."

Tanith snorted at her bluntness, "A fair enough point, there is little survival here outside the former town and manor itself. I wonder if Rykard may yet amass another cohort of scholars and followers." "I won't complain if he keeps pursuing academics in peace." Elia muttered.

Morgott eyed the shorter mage as he hefted another beam to slot into place over the roof's supports, "What business dost thou have with me, Archmage?"

"...A favor to ask." Sellen eyed the omen carefully, studying his broken horns and healing scrapes from his battle.

"Out with it then." Morgott kept to his work, chatting as he hauled wood and supplies. The cabin was nearly complete, its loft and roof still in construction, yet a hearth had been reconstructed from the ruins, and the hut was properly tailored to his height. A simple but suitable accommodation for the man.

"Gideon Ofnir. Does that name mean anything of consequence to you?" Sellen asked.

Morgott tensed, his eye narrowed, "Is the all knowing sod still milling about? His dead scouts were too lenient of a warning to linger at his own peril."

"Ah. You do know him then." Sellen whispered.

"Yes. He has painstakingly tried to breach my city since the doomed efforts of Vyke when the fool slipped into madness through a half completed pact. What is the man doing now?" Morgott demanded, looming over Sellen with singular focus.

"Amassing an encampment of Tarnished, perfumers, and omenkillers." Sellen gravely replied, "He terrorized the albinuarics of

Liurnia by raiding their village nearly a year ago. Tensions are still fresh and they have no love for him. Nor does my daughter."

Morgott's lip curled, "Foul bastard. Worst of his ilk, the most anointed and proud of them all in an obtuse fashion." "...We have no formal stance for war or peace with him. If it comes to hostilities, I will ask for your help." Sellen informed.

"Truly, do I possess a choice in this matter?" Morgott asked.

"You do." Sellen admitted, her posture slouching, "You reside here, if not by my will than by Godwyn and Elia's."

Morgott paused, "I promise nothing than to defend my brother and my few companions here. I will never sympathize or assist in that hack's cause."

"That is all I can rightfully ask of you." Sellen rubbed her temples, "Have you any advice to offer, in how we deal with him?"

"Gideon himself is merely a wizened and old man of passing skill. The danger is the numbers and information he wields. Leyndell was safe and impenetrable, yet my knights never rooted the man out when he traversed the lands himself and left his little hideaway." Morgott sighed.

Sellen raised her brows, "...you possessed knights?"

"Fear the night of the fell Omen." Morgott nodded, "They answered under my alias, and kept many tarnished on the move or far from the paths to the shard bearers."

"Would they still answer to you?" Sellen asked.

Morgott slowly nodded, "Three remain, and would answer my call if summoned… if war comes, we shan't be defenseless,

Sellen. I have some notion of gratitude and logic to my benefactor."

"Thank you." The words were a genuine and quietly murmured thing by the woman, and Morgott gave her a befuddled look for a moment before replying, "...Thou are welcome."

It seemed Morgott was due for another guest, and his breath caught in his throat to see the short meddlesome maiden once again.

Blue and gold eyes studied Morgott intently, and Melina kept her distance, "...She actually did let you stay here."

"Girl. What could thou possibly have to hain by pestering me?" Morgott continued hammering in the shingles of his roof, glaring down at Melina in passing, "What hole didst thou crawl from regardless. I expected you to be guarding your tarnished, not a

rotting girl."

Melina bared her teeth, "Thank the stars I was still dead when you reared your head, for you would have lost it."

"Spare me the poetry and threats. Thy friend is not here, and I've no reason to end her now. I lost." Morgott deadpanned, "Leave me be, girl."

"I have a name. Melina." She ground out.

"As do I, do I seem swayed or compelled to care?" Morgott nailed in another shingle, "What killed thee, girl?"

"...I was the sacrifice needed to burn the tree." Melina whispered.

Morgott's gaze hardened, "So I see. Thrice now thou hath been a pain to myself and what I stood for. Why hath thou come here,

girl?"

She sighed, unsure of that herself, "...to see the brother Godwyn is so protective of, and has faith in."

"Ah. So thou hath met him already. Why is that a concern to thee?" Morgott set down his tools, knowing he would be accosted for a while yet.

Melina wrapped her arms tightly around herself, "...The best of Marika's children, his opinion holds weight, does it not?"

"I fail to see where Marika's line holds any pertinent to thee." Morgott said, not meaning to be unkind, but genuinely confused.

He narrowed his eyes at her and hopped down, lightly lifting Melina's chin to peer at her eye, "This has changed."

The gnarled skin of his hands made her flinch, and she drew back sharply, "Don't grab me."

"Apologies." Morgott muttered, still studying her, and his frown only deepened. She had a delicate face, an undiluted eye of gold that he'd never seen before beyond Radagon's face and his children.

"Girl…Melina, who sired thee?" he muttered, and her stomach dropped.

Melina felt the instinct to run, her legs refusing to obey and she swallowed hard, "...I have no recollection of my father."

"And thy mother?" Morgott crossed his arms, "Thou can leave if thee wishes, I have no right to hold you here."

She wouldn't be a coward, and she squared her shoulders, "All clues point towards Marika. She spawned me."

Morgott's eyes widened, "Ah. That…that does complicate matters."

"Don't tell anyone."

"...Very well." Morgott's tone was uncertain, yet who was he to voice her secrets, despite how obvious they may be, "Is thou finished pestering me?"

Melina nodded, unsure if she should apologize or not.

Morgott let her depart without issue or another word, the routine strikes of the hammer resuming as he set to work once more.

Gideon's hopes began to wane as the courier recounted her visit. The poor girl hadn't made it past the entrance before she was greeted by the Albinuaric captain.

"Tis a fine enough job you've done. So their lord is out in the field, is he?" he asked, fingers interlaced and his gaze intent.

The girl nodded, "So they say. He has a standing garrison, and the village looks…habitable, established. They aren't milling about in the mud, they're living."

"Thats to be expected, formalized leadership, ranks, and a strong institution to lean upon. No sight of the Tarnished woman then, Elia?"

"No. I think she's departed with him…she was in his custody since Leyndell, no?" she asked.

Gideon nodded, "Doesn't trust her abide alone I suppose, nor would I. She has deep ties to that academy and the graven witch." "...How hospitable do you believe the Elden Lord will be to our cohort, sir?" she asked, daring to voice her curiosity.

"I don't know," Gideon admitted, "Yet to lie in wait with no dialogue with Liurnia is to be a sitting duck. He seems sane, hasn't pillaged or turned to a bloody conquest of the continent yet. I will trust those odds to hold a conversation with the man, and learn what transpired in Leyndell as the tree burned."

Malenia counted herself fortunate to have avoided Rykard for the better part of three days. That luck ran out when the Lord of the manor summoned her and Miquella for a proper conversation with Radahn. Radagon was not included in this meeting, to her annoyance.

Miquella kept near Malenia, at ease with her and the general, yet eyeing Rykard carefully. Radahn seemed to be at ease, waving Malenia and him inside, "Finally emerged from the corner you hid in?"

"Drilling Millicent takes time." Malenia smoothly lied through her teeth, "Have talks gone well for you two?"

"They have." Radahn's smile was something of a relief, and Malenia finally dared to speak to Rykard, "...Well, what's come of them? Will you be leaving to see Rennala?"

Rykard lacked the patience to correct her, "In my own time. I've not dragged you all here to discuss my plans for a reunion however." He sighed, "The Elden Ring. It's a free floating bauble in the skin of a woman who can be stolen or maimed at any time. Father may be capable of protecting her, yet should he fail, lose her, what then? Do we hand the keys to dominating the world to the next god with an appetite to test his fury?"

Miquella raised a hand, "...She's not so vulnerable."

"Elaborate, what has she done to safeguard the ring?" Rykard pressed.

"Elia found a rune in her travels, a powerful ward that effectively insulates the ring. Unlike the last time she grafted a rune into herself, father helped her this time. The mending rune of Order was spawned by the introspections of Goldmask, it held under

Father and I's scrutiny…and frankly possesses a stronger benediction than Godrick's petty rune ever did." Miquella mused,

"...The gods do still roam, however, even if the Greater Will fades with a waning half life."

"Do none of you see that as a pertinent problem? Malenia still rots, you still remain a perpetual child, only Death and the Moon seem to be in some semblance of stability, whilst Rot and the Formless Mother still grasp for power. Nor is the Greater Will dead, only aimless and without a direct tool in the world, given the very nature of the ring has been reshaped under Father and his consort's will." Rykard grimaced.

"Do you mean to consume them?" Miquella asked.

"Pardon?" Rykard furrowed his brow, "No. That path failed in spectacular fashion. What of your word pertaining to unalloyed gold. It's kept Malenia from setting off another cataclysm it seems?"

"I haven't bloomed because I have already ascended." Malenia confessed with bitter resignation, "I rebirthed not by the grace of gold, but through the endurance of my aeonia. Rot cannot kill its progenitor."

Miquella exhaled tightly, "...I tried, unalloyed gold is not a panacea for her, hope may lie for Caelid, but my sister lives with this." Rykard stared, "...You are a goddess in your own right."

Malenia nodded, "Answer me this. Since you've awoken, have you felt a change inside you, assessed how you were not quite the same as you were?" she gestured to Rykard's clawed hands and serpentine pupils.

"A serpent never dies." he murmured, "...I tell you this in confidence, I endure with remnants of that beast, as does Tanith given the flesh she imbibed."

Radahn slowly nodded , "Meaning, don't tell father."

The serpent king sent him a sour look, "Yes. I don't care to answer a thousand questions as he frets."

Malenia glared, "He only came here because he worried for his son, tis his prerogative to know you are well, and to help with any

affl-"

"I will deny him if I see fit. I carry his blood, and little else, Malenia. Love and revere him if you so please, I will not." Rykard replied evenly, "My condition, whatever it may be, is hardly an affliction, nor would you take it kindly if I said the same of you. We exist as we do, and the world is turning on its head underneath our very feet."

"...come with us." Radahn implored, "If not for father, then for our Mother and Ranni."

"...Give me time to consider it." Rykard relented, "It has been long overdue for me to see them both."

Miquella cleared his throat, "When you do come to Liurnia, come see my work."

"I shall. You made the most headway out of us all in throwing off the Order without a mountain of bodies in your wake." Rykard admitted in a rare display of praise.

Radagon availed himself to Rykard's library as the demigods consulted one another. The message had been simple and clear.

Stay away, and leave them be. One could credit Rykard for drawing a sharp boundary at least, yet it chafed all the same.

He would be loath to admit he sought to kill the hours Elia would be occupied with Tanith this morning. Devouring a pile of texts regarding obscure occultism wouldn't bode well for how he slept that night, yet it certainly passed the time. Radagon was halfway through grimacing at a blood ritual when the heavy doors opened, creaking on their hinges and Elia's light footed stride recognizable.

The book was quickly abandoned, and he lifted his gaze to her, "What did Tanith want?"

"She wanted to know if I was primed to wage more chaos upon her household or not. It's settled, and I doubt she'll forgive me. Yet she won't conspire to smother me in my sleep." Elia sat herself beside him without preamble, legs draped across his lap, and her eyes scanning over the pile of books.

"Radagon?"

"Elia?" he nervously answered, settling his hand over her knee.

"Why am I seeing books about the rituals of grafting, blood rites, and virgin sacrifice?" Elia read with raised brows.

"Rykard keeps a storied collection, and I was aimless in what I wished to read." Radagon muttered.

"If you were bored you could have intruded and plucked me from tea with Tanith." Elia teased.

He rolled his eyes , "Duly noted, grackle."

"Do you think we'll be departing soon?" she asked, sinking into the cushions as she flipped through one of the gruesome books, and frowned at the leather binding, hoping it wasn't human flesh.

"I think so. Radahn and Rykard have had their time and privacy, I doubt Malenia and Miquella wish to stay here. Only Rya and Diallos seem keen to have company."

"Oh, you haven't experienced the joy of speaking to Patches more than simply in passing," Elia snorted, "He'd be keen to torment us both."

"Then we leave quickly." Radagon muttered, "...I'm entertaining the notion of departing to Leyndell alone with you, to find your mother's memento?"

She tightened her hold on the book, "I'd appreciate that. Then we can finally prepare for Nokron?"

Radagon nodded as he carded a hand through her loose tresses, "You've waited long enough to see your family."

The kiss Elia placed on the corner of his mouth was a sweet and inviting gesture, one Radagon readily accepted as he snared an arm around her waist, and pressed his lips to hers with a low groan in relief. Her company was a persistent balm these days, one he took care to cherish.

Unfettered Grace

Chapter Notes

I swear we're almost out of volcano manor

Elia groaned sharply against Radagon's hand, her sharp canines scraping against the calloused skin. Her back braced against the sheets as her thighs tightly hugged his waist, she was a keen and flushed mess beneath her husband. His hips drove sharply against hers into the mattress, her folds slick and tightly clenching around him as her nerves were alight in pleasure.

Radagon had carried her over from the library, a hunger stirring and it wouldn't have been wise to be riding him in plain view of any stranger. Face burning a bright red and a sheen of sweat glazing her skin, Radagon found that he preferred her out of the heavy robes Rya and Tanith sported. He kneaded supple curves, pinched a shapely thigh or the swell of her breast to make her cry out in bliss. When his teeth bit her neck, she was her loudest yet, her voice reverbing against his hand.

Elia studied his form openly, tracing her palm over his chest with a hard swallow. Deep pitted lines resembled his former cracks and shattered fragments of stone which had bared the Elden Ring he housed once. His arm was little better, striated with fissures and patches of paler scar tissue, often buried under armor. Despite retaining the dense muscle, it was still a leaner and scarred limb than Elia had realized. Then came his back.

Those crosshatched marks of his rune gleamed in pitted marks of gold across his back, and grimly told of his role as a beast of burden to his other half. It had made Radagon pause when Elia kissed between his shoulders as he undressed, no longer obscured by filth as he had been when they bathed.

She wanted to study him more, now that they lacked the frenzy and rush to dote upon one another before business called upon them once more. Yet her studying would wait, as Radagon drew out another groan from her with the sharp snap of his hips into her burning and slick core. He was close now, her walls snug around his length as it throbbed against her.

His hand withdrew from her lips, daring to be heard if she might call out some sweet entreaty when she came undone. Lovingly, he traced the Elden Ring's sigil that snaked down her spine, and dared to ponder if he had another half who was content with him.

His hopes brightened when Elia called his name with a sharp cry and clutched him like a lifeline. The words he whispered into her hair went unheard by Elia in her blissed daze, yet they were words well worth saying as he saw stars.

She laid in a heap beneath him, shivering in the afterglow as he fucked her through her orgasm, overly sensitive and keening into her husband's chest.

Elia came too against his chest, a blanket draped over her form as his hands worked her long tresses into a prim braid. The soreness of her legs kept her still, and she muttered to Radagon, "You are a beast when you have a hunger," her palm audibly smacked his ample chest, and his laugh filled the space between them.

"Apologies, grackle." He murmured good naturedly as he tied off the braid, "Are you alright?"

"Sore, but fine." She curled into his side, "Remember, you are still domineering in height." Elia winced as she moved her legs, knowing it would hurt to walk tomorrow.

Radagon flushed sheepishly then, "A fair point," his fingertips gently kneaded her thigh, eliciting a soft groan in relief from Elia.

"...Are you content with this arrangement we've made for ourselves?"

Elia nodded, lightly kissing his throat as she sat herself in his lap, "I am." She murmured, "...You are well worth the work to know and love, Radagon."

His eyes widened sharply, and his breath caught in his throat, "You mean that, sincerely?"

Elia took his face in her hands, enunciating deliberately and patiently, "I love you, you silly man."

He didn't have the words, yet he settled his palm over Elia's hand, and kissed it, "I cherish you in equal regard, Elia."

Elia took those bookish words for what they meant, and kissed him. She made no comment about the dampness on his cheeks as he cupped the back of her head to hold her close.

To be loved was in and of itself, an act of grace.

Rykard stroked his chin in thought, voicing his question to Rya with baited breath, "...Do you wish to meet your grandmother,

Zorayas?"

The girl's eyes shined, "I would!" A moment of surprised silence passed before she murmured, "...I would like to see her, yes please."

A wry chuckle left Rykard then, "Your excitement is appreciated, take no shame in it. Tanith's told me you've been to Liurnia a handful of times, no?"

Rya nodded then, taking care not to mention the affair with Boggart and Elia, "Its a lovely kingdom, yes. I'd like to see its

academy…"

"Father can likely arrange a visit." Rykard murmured, "I would want to show you the home of my siblings and mother, the Carian

Manor, if we depart soon."

"Are we to travel with Uncle Radahn's cohort?" Rya asked, and Rykard's small smile at her tact was a soft thing. The girl was sharper than she gave herself credit for on some days.

"Maybe. It'll be a delicate arrangement. I expect you will want your knight with you, nor would I want you without an escort away from home. Do you wish to be the one to tell Diallos of the trip?"

Rya nodded quickly, her cheeks tinged a bright pink before she stepped forward to bow in respect. Rykard shook his head, and tentatively opened his arm to her, "You are a lady here, you never need to bow to family, Zorayas. Always hold your head high."

The gentle correction earned him a tight embrace, awkward with Rya's hunch and unfamiliarity with him, and Rykard wheezed at the strength she possessed as she crushed his waist. Gently, with a tremor in his hands as he strained to breathe, Rykard held his daughter with a fluttering sense of relief in his chest.

"Thank you, Father."

By morning, the manor gathered formally for a proper meeting, and only a handful of the demigods were puzzled to see Elia carried on her husband's back. Rykard pointedly directed his gaze elsewhere, Malenia seemed apathetic, Radahn had a knowing smirk, and Miquella raised a brow in confusion as he ambled over to the pair.

"You're late, is she unwell?" Miquella muttered, never having seen Radagon fail to be punctual. The woman rested her chin atop Radagon's shoulder with a sheepish look, "No….No I'm fine. my legs just aren't cooperating with me today. Trained too hard with your father."

Miquella sighed, "Then ask for a tonic, silly lady."

Elia exchanged a lingering look with Radagon, "...That would be appreciated, actually. Thank you."

"Your welcome," the boy sent her a chastizing look.

Rykard then chose to interject, sharply clearing his throat, "My family will be descending down the mountain with you all, and depart separately towards my mother's home once we reach the Liurnian border."

Malenia looked as if she'd been asked to swallow poison, Millicent merely shrugged in acceptance, Miquella seemed tentatively optimistic as Radahn grinned from ear to ear.

"Good, I hoped to speak more with my niece."

It would be later, nursing the herbal brew and retreating away into a nook of the library, that Miquella pulled Elia aside in conversation.

"...You and father are very domestic these days." He murmured, "Why?"

Elia blinked, "...I don't quite understand the question?"

"Why does he spend hours in a day simply to exist in your company? Far more time than I can spend with Malenia and Godwyn being idle, not on a daily basis." Miquella pressed, confusion denoting his tone than anger.

"...Him and Marika weren't an overly affectionate couple in their marriage, were they?"

"Marika was hardly a present mother, Elia." Miquella sighed.

"...May I divulge a poorly kept secret, Miquella?"

The boy nodded, "Of course."

"I adore your father, enough to love him." She confessed quietly, "It may not be what you meant when you wanted me to look after him, yet its what our relationship has become."

The young empyrean's gold eyes studied Elia with intense scrutiny, "Good. He needs a better partner than solitude or Marika."

She blinked in surprise, mouth slightly agape.

"...You aren't replacing some illustrious mother to me, as you do for Rykard in his mind. Father has been an island unto himself for all my life. Its been long overdue for that to change." Miquella explained, his tone direct and patient, "Please don't expect me to call you mother."

"I don't, I think another maternal figure being inserted into the mix would only convolute this family." Elia murmured, "You aren't so distant that I won't fuss over you from time to time, however."

Miquella groaned, "You already outfitted with me with more clothes than I need or want, woman!"

"You're growing like a weed and need-" she faltered, and she and Miquella shared a collective realization.

"...I was shorter than your hip when we first met." He whispered, motioning for her to stand.

The boy's head was sooner level with her stomach, given another few months, where would he stand in height?

Elia swallowed hard, "...You've never grown an inch taller since you hit…what age, ten perhaps twelve if one were generous?"

Miquella nodded stiffly, "It's hard to remember when Malenia aged synchronously with me…and for every year she gained on me in age, the rot worsened." He held his hair with a shaking exhale, shakey on his feet until Elia gingerly took his hands.

"Look at me." She instructed softly, "...You were hatched from that cocoon in flesh unfettered by a curse, we can ascertain that much. Was that not a metamorphosis you sought out, even if it differs from the one that was designed, Miquella?"

The empyrean nodded, his gaze fixed on Elia, "...You broke it. As thanks, I slapped you." Shame was clear upon his face with a tired sigh leaving the boy. Elia shook her head and gingerly embraced the child, "All is forgiven, Miquella. Who do you want to

tell first?"

"...Malenia and Father would like to know…I wouldn't scream your miracle to the ceilings yet, however."

"Don't tell Rykard, you mean." She murmured.

"Mhm. …I want his help, but we only have so much of a measure of him, and he holds doubts about you." Miquella confessed, "...Some warranted, others less so."

"A fair enough sentiment. He hasn't been an earnest sibling to you either." Elia muttered.

"No. Nor was Radahn….yet he's trying at least." Miquella shrugged, clutching Elia's tunic tightly in their embrace. She gently carded her hand through his gold tresses, "Let's find your father, Miquella." He nodded in agreement, and clasped Elia's hand as he tugged her along to find wherever Radagon had meandered off too.

Malenia sharpened her sword, dreading their impending departure. Radagon sat across from her, continuing the monotonous task of repairing that damaged hammer bit by bit. Its handle had been rewrapped with leather, and the stem finally ceased bleeding runes through numerous fissures.

"Tell me. What do you dread most about the return trip. Rykard's presence alone, or the arguments he could spawn if I strike a nerve?"

"All of the above!" She hissed, "I fail to see why we need to travel together at all, the path to Liurnia is a straightforward one."

"Safety in numbers, and likely its for Rya's sake, she does seem keen on meeting us all. She liked Elia and I well enough."

"Fantastic, it doesn't mean I want to suffer the cimlany of my half brother who has done nothing but stare down his nose at us and do nothing to help Miquella's affliction."

Radagon grimaced, "He is a selfish and vain son. I won't deny that fact. Yet he may be our best resource when handling a pantheon of errant gods and their vassals. Unalloyed gold is still incomplete as a solution…and consumption while monstrous was a path that had a theoretical conclusion and success."

"It can't be worth pursuing." Malenia shook her head, "...He isn't particularly kind to you either."

"I knew what I was getting into by coming here, Rennala won't forgive the circumstances of our separation, nor will he."

"You suffered as greatly as she- mother was horrible to you." She protested, "I care not for the measure of it- you suffered in this matter and he pays that fact no mind."

"I was still his father and expected to shield him and Rennala. Instead Liurnia was fractured and its institutions pillaged. His perspective isn't a fair one, yet there is no reconciling it unless he finds the heart to forgive me." Radagon sighed, "I count myself fortunate to have you, Miquella, and Radahn still with me. It is what it is."

Malenia bit her tongue, shoulders squared and fury still burning in her eyes, "You were not perfect, yet we never went unloved by you."

He set aside the hammer, opening an arm to Malenia, "I tried my best for you all." He wheezed when her prosthesis wrapped around his shoulders, her grip strong and unbreaking as he held her.

"You were enough." She murmured against his shoulder.

The silence was broken when Miquella nudged open the door, trailed by Elia as they reluctantly intruded.

"...Father, Malenia…I need a moment of your time." The boy murmured.

Malenia rose to her feet, "What is it- is something wrong?"

Radagon glanced over the twins in confusion and then to Elia, the woman tense and silent.

"What happened, you two? Was there complications with the tonic?"

"No. No more of a revelation." Miquella informed, wringing his wrists, "...Do I seem taller to you, Malenia?"

The valkyrie blinked, squinting at her brother and kneeling as she so often did.

Miquella was looking down at her, rather than at eye level as they once were. It was marginal, a difference that day by day was hard to track without strict observation.

Her brother was a little bit ganglier, his face thinner not from any lacking meals, but the slow and miniscule loss of rounded fat as a child aged.

Malenia cupped his cheek, "How?"

Elia finally spoke, "...The rune of the unborn was the catalyst to rebirth Miquella's form, after Mohg had warped and reshaped his body down to the marrow."

"A new skin…and a body without the curse." Miquella murmured.

Radagon tentatively drew closer, kneeling to survey Miquella with greater scrutiny, "...The Elden Ring had been useless in lifting your curse in Marika's hands…"

"Perhaps its nature was an imbalanced or impotent thing in her hands…without death or your hand to guide it?" Malenia frowned, uncertain in her musings.

"The rune of the unborn was my handiwork..not an original rune to the ring. Perhaps that plays a role, nor did Marika try to pursue a cure of her own volition." Radagon murmured, looking to Elia with a sobering expression, "Thank you, intended or not, a boon is appreciated."

"You…You're welcome." Elia dipped her head, uncomfortable with three sets of gold eyes fixed on her.

"You're a better healer than a swordsman." Malenia gruffly complemented, "Thank you."

Elia was stunned to have coaxed even that modicum of gratitude from the Valkyrie, "Of course."

…Gratitude from Malenia was a strange but not entirely unwelcome thing.

Road to Leyndell

The descent from Mount Gelmir was greatly eased with Rykard as a guide and pathmaker down the volcanic slope. To avoid slogging through sewage was a boon in its own right, even to Miquella who sat atop his father's shoulders, the rank scent of brimstone wasn't so foul as the tunnel's waste.

Plans had been hashed out in brisk and simple fashion. Rykard would depart with his siblings to Raya Lucaria, Radagon and Elia to Leyndell. A rendezvous would be expected within a week, and few opposed the separation beyond the initial confusion of Malenai and Radahn, and Miquella's blatant annoyance to see the party disbanded.

"...Why the detour?" Miquella muttered, frowning at his father from above, "It seems silly to depart alone."

"Something of Elia's was left there, and it's been long enough that she's been denied it." Radagon explained, " You'll hardly know we were gone."

Elia could see Miquella's brewing curiosity, and informed quietly, "...A past encounter with Morgott lead to a memento of my mother's being taken. I've wanted it back for a long while."

Miquella blinked, soft and slow as he muttered, "...How did he manage to pry it from you in the heat of a battle? He hardly seems like a thief despite his transgressions."

"It was a diversion… he managed to accost me once for the runes, and I baited him with something convincing enough to keep him distracted." Elia winced, not wanting to recount that night's grueling details to the boy.

Ever like his father, Miquella's attention was piqued, alongside his concern. Finally, Elia cast out an olive branch, "Do you wish to accompany us?"

Radagon's expression didn't sour, yet it certainly tensed at the thought of dragging the twins into a detour alone with his wife. Malenia nearly interjected, yet bit her tongue and watched Miquella intently as the boy nodded once, "I'd feel safer, knowing you and father weren't bumbling about in a ruin alone."

There was a gentle comedy in the notion of the young empyrean tipping the odds of danger lurking. Yet his words weren't without merit. Miquella's incantations had thrown Radagon in the height of his fury off of Godwyn, and diffused the worst of his father's ire and pride when needed. Radagon quietly sighed, "A fine enough point. If you don't mind my company or the detour, join us. We may scour the capital for any possessions you've left there, Miquella?"

"...I would like that." Miquella murmured, his voice small. Leyndell had been his home once, Elia realized with stark clarity - how much had been abandoned when he split from the order with Malenia?

"Malenia," Elia called over, the woman tensing and nodding, "...Do you wish to accompany us?"

The Valkyrie clearly hesitated before shaking her head, "...I need the time to properly instruct your shadow one on one. Father and Miquella will keep you from bumb-"

"Wonderful, plans are settled." Elia deadpanned, sending the redhead a dry smile.

Once more, Torrent was bequeathed to Miquella, and the small entourage found themselves in surprisingly amicable standing since when they last traveled in such a small entourage. Radagon still found himself surprised to find Elia in pleasant conversation with the boy some days.

"You described the finer workings of Raya Lucaria's telescope to Godwyn and I, it was your father's creation?" Miquella asked, the weightlessness of the chamber still a novel delight to recall.

"It was, it marked the peak of his tenure as head of Astronomy." Elia murmured, "We mapped the stars well in Knossos, and that relied heavily on precise mathematical calculations and properly calibrated mirrors and lenses to study the heavens in detail."

"What became of him, a celebrated architect would have been invaluable as much as father was to the Golden Order?" Miquella asked.

"He was, as long as Rennala's throne was an unrivaled institution," Elia murmured, "...Alone, she was worn away, piece by piece until her gentry and scholars could render her authority defunct and confine her to the academy. From there… if you were Numen, Albunaric, or an ex-alumni, there was little recourse or shelter to be had in Liurnia."

"...I waged a fourth campaign in Liurnia to corral the remaining nobility into the fiefdoms that would bow to Marika until the shattering ensued. From there, it seems the kingdom floundered entirely with no external support to keep it together." Radagon shook his head, "It was that civil war that drove out your uncle and village?"

"It was." Elia nodded.

Miquella tensed, "Your father died." he murmured in realization.

She gently squeezed Miquella's hand, "...You understand the toll of war, it's a fact of life. I'm grateful to have one surviving family member than none at all."

"Why did you stomach your memento being lost for so long, when you have so little family left?" Miquella pressed, knowing how out of sorts he'd been just with the absence of Malenia .

"...The ring came first." Elia wrung her wrists, "If those runes fell from my hands, what would happen? If they fell into Mohg or Rykard's control…we'd be in a hellish age. Morgott…I don't know if he'd have risen to the task of becoming a lord, or if he'd have never found the conviction to burn the tree. Stagnation and failure were not options I'd choose until I stood defeated."

Miquella glanced to Radagon and then back to her with a slow nod, "...Its how you took Father's presence in stride, isn't it?"

"More or less. I could hate him, or grapple with the state of things and twist his arm as much as I could into an equitable partnership." Elia's smile was a wry thing.

Radagon kept his eyes forward, "A task you succeeded in."

"No. You simply proved to be a decent man." Elia countered, "I doubt I would have had such luck with Marika."

"Oh, no. You wouldn't have coaxed much from her until Godwyn walked the earth again." Radagon shook his head.

"...She's still in your head, isn't she…she had an outburst when Morgott goaded you?" Miquella asked, tightly gripping Torrent's reins.

"She is…and she's a shell of her former power, a leech squatting in the recesses of my consciousness in relative obscurity." Radagon dismissed.

"Is that safe?" Miquella pressed, "Can she not be excised?"

"...We have tentative plans to address her in Nokron, and remove her from any claim to power." "She dies then?" Miquella tensed, brow furrowed in worry.

"I don't know. How long she is for this world depends entirely on her ability to concede power and lay her suicidal ambitions to rest." Elia informed, her tone firm, "...She won't harm your father again, or you and your sister."

"...Promise me, she won't be a menace again?"

"If she raises a hand to any of you, she dies." Elia's tone turned sharp.

Miquella's shoulders visibly sagged in relief.

The snow that once mired these roads had begun to thaw, leaving a muddy path to trod through as they ascended into the Altus Plateau. Mist and dense fog did much to obscure the looming sight of the Erdtree, its light too faint to penetrate the heavy clouds. The Golden Light of grace had left this place it seemed.

Only Radagon's knowledge of the old footpaths and causeways kept them on a steady course to the city through the dour weather and poor visibility, the man leading Torrent by the reins. By late afternoon, mud began to give way to cobblestone, and then to brick roads. The city walls had never fully been restored from the multiple assaults on the city, yet Morgott had stewarded the city well in his time as king.

The roads were still navigable and bridges stable despite centuries of a nigh perpetual lockdown for the remaining garrison and denizens. No longer did the city perpetually smell of cinders, now it carried a loamy and stagnant scent, the dust settled and the ruins vacant and empty. Elia gripped Radagon's hand tightly, muttering, "...In and out, this is a brief trip?"

The Elden Lord nodded stiffly, "...I don't intend to keep us here for long, no."

Miquella seemed equally as uneasy to see the city settling into its final state as a ruin, or for its golden glow to be completely absent, "Has the greater will truly forsaken its altar?"

Elia slowly nodded, "...I think it lost its last foothold when Marika ceased to be a god, and the mantle she held was reforged."

"We aren't entering its Sanctum." Radagon muttered, dread building as he eyed the grayed and looming husk of the Erdtree. No one thought to disagree with that sentiment.

The thick fog had been ample cover for the scouts to note the strange party of three. A couple and their child?

The child hardly resembled the woman, yet bore some of his father's countenance, the redheaded man looming and treading a path with unmatched certainty towards Leyndell. Red locks were auspicious, and hardly seen on any man or woman. With mounting dread and growing caution, the eyes and ears of Gideon realized who composed the entourage.

An Elden Lord who was expected to still be within Liurnia, and the Tarnished he'd faced in battle. Why, pray tell, were they traveling as a family with a child?

With a clear destination, word of this couldn't wait nor be delayed. The scouts retreated to their encampment as quickly as they could with newfound urgency. Gideon would have his audience with the Elden Lord.

Today.

Morgott's chamber hadn't been spared the deluge of ash that had befallen the city. His desk was covered in a fine film of dust, the stone floor covered in a good inch or two of the fine sediment that scattered underfoot. Reports lay scattered, a dry inkwell and forgotten quill sat atop its surface. Radagon swept his eyes from the plain chair, to the barren walls and simple furnishings.

"..The veiled monarch kept humble accommodations." He mused, unsure if he approved or was even moved by the mundane insight into Morgott's personal tastes. It was strange to picture Morgott holding Godfrey's particular deep set frown and scowl at the tedious nature of paperwork and regency. It was also eerily easy to picture the man taking the most after his father. Mohg certainly hadn't resembled the First Elden Lord in the sporadic sightings Radagon had glimpsed of the omen, and Godwyn was as fair as his mother in appearance.

His hands swept over the desk, looking for any bauble or ornament that seemed out of place. Miquella peered over the contents of a bookcase, finding little else but outdated maps and faded parchment. Elia lingered in the doorway, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she murmured, "...It's a pearlescent thing, with a lunar sigil."

Sussing out the office had been an easier task than expected. Firstly, it was a room that had recently been appointed and traversed. Oil still sat dormant in its lanterns, its furniture wasn't tarnished or derelict. It was also once occupied by Godfrey and then Radagon. This chamber was owed to the King of Leyndell, and who was Morgott to ever eschew tradition?

Elia almost laughed, it had been terribly close to Radagon's chamber where she had slept mere months ago. Down a hall and up a flight of stairs, the study occupied a lone tower overlooking the training yards.

Radagon had turned to emptying drawers and rummaging about, finding most of them bare and empty until one drawer refused to budge.

Promising.

A firm tug pulled the drawer free with the splintering of wood and the lock horribly twisted as Radagon pulled the compartment free of the desk. Elia drew closer and pointedly slid a stray key over towards Radagon, buried under dust and having lost its luster.

He sent her a sour look, and placed the pilfered box into her hands, "It did the job, grackle."

Elia's expression softened immensely, and before Radagon could think to be smug, her lips brushed his cheek as she cupped his face, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome - open it, see if everything is as it should be?" he pressed, curiosity brewing as he studied the details of the delicate box. Unfamiliar script and constellations adorned its sides, and the lunar face was an intricate carving set against the pearlescent surface.

Gingerly, Elia opened the memento, and she exhaled tightly in relief.

Delicate bronze and vibrant pearls sat against an aged velvet cushion of blue, coupled with bangles and earrings of equally delicate craftsmanship. Rhoda's regalia had gone unharmed in Morgott's possession it seemed.

"...It's just as I last saw it." she murmured, tentatively offering the keepsake to Radagon for him to inspect.

He cradled the box in his hands, particularly focused upon the diadem, "...This was the standard ornamentation for a priestess of your people?"

"Allegedly, yes. Royalty and clergy were very closely enmeshed, and my mother took up the mantle of her mother and so on." Elia nodded.

"Ah, you were a matriarchal folk." Radagon nodded, glancing at Elia with a raised brow, "...You were sensitive to being called a queen once. Does that run deeper than taking Marika's mantle?"

Her breath hitched faintly, and Radagon grimly nodded in understanding. Elia sighed and spoke then, "It does… It's a poor omen for your mother to die in childbirth after a migration, don't you think? We adapted and slipped into Liurnian traditions like a second skin, particularly when we lost a cornerstone of our own…"

Radagon held few words of comfort. He was a divested half who never held a childhood or history to cling to, yet he understood what it was to feel aimless and transient. Always malleable to the trappings of his situation than carrying a distinct shape or foundation in his existence. How similarly had Elia felt, a woman who should have been holy and resplendent in another life, to be rendered a knight in thankless service and then made an outcast?

Radagon laced a hand through her own as he set aside her mother's memento, leaning in to kiss her brow. Elia leaned into the gesture, clasping her husband's hands tightly.

The silence was a heavy blanket that smothered the room, and Miquella watched with quiet surprise at the tenderness his father held.

When had his father ever comforted his wife, and not been spurned or rebuked within the Empyrean's living memory?

The Elden Throne, ornate, graceful, and defunct.

Gideon eyed the seat and the withered tree with a tense exhale, circling it as if expecting the remembrance of Godfrey himself to pounce. No such luck. Aged wood was unmoving, and Gideon could only ponder what battle had shattered stone, tainted the floor in an acidic wash, and stains of liquid gold dried in the crevices and grout of the stonework.

He hadn't been so foolish as to come alone. At the base of the steps, two omen killers and a dozen tarnished awaited his command if disaster were to strike. For the moment, the old man was content to ponder and examine the once holy ground of Queen Marika's court.

It was an auspicious development to see the Elden Lord traversing into altus with a minimal entourage, and to thankfully bypass correspondence with the Graven Witch and her Albinuaric captain. Thus far, they'd entered the city quietly and uncontested, perhaps it truly was a derelict ruin now, with no defenders remaining. Whatever brought Radagon here, it must have been of some importance. Yet, he'd dragged the Tarnished along with him, and a child?

Gideon shook his head, unsure of what rhyme or reason which compelled the man to bring a hellish woman or a stray child along. It wouldn't be long now, his scouts already dispatched to find the trio and bring them here.

What were a few more minutes spent admiring the bygone glory of the Erdtree as he waited?

The poor sod nearly lost his head under the swing of a hammer when he approached the Omen King's old study. The Elden Lord's eyes flashed dangerously, not taking kindly to the thought of being spied on or tracked.

"State your business, quickly."

The hammer was heavy in its presence, looming high with the Elden Lord's boot braced against the scout's chest to keep him pinned. He was the one who was lucky to be unharmed. His companion was less fortunate.

Elia had seen an unfamiliar face and lunged on instinct before the scout could voice their entry, Lacero slashed through the hand holding a weapon. Their sharp scream filled the hall, and Radagon was upon the two in an instant. The wounded scout quickly yielded with a frenzied yell, eyes wide as a doe and breaking into cold sweat.

"...Gideon, Sir Gideon sent us!" the pinned scout shouted, "We meant no harm!"

"You approached with a drawn weapon and little announcement." Radagon grimaced, "What does your lord want with us?"

"Her - our men have died to her before, it was only a necessary precaution, sir…" he wheezed, balking as Elia crossed her arms with an intensifying scowl. Miquella kept quiet and muttered, "...Who is their commander?" he asked Elia.

"Sir Gideon Ofnir, an academic with few scruples and many pawns." Elia grimaced, "...He slew the Albinuaric village in search of the Haligtree's medallion."

The boy blinked twice, "...Ephael, he killed a village to access it." "He failed, yet that was where our conflict began." Elia nodded.

"Half a dozen tarnished were worth avenging a village no one would mourn?!" the scout hissed, rage giving him a feeble sense of bravado that fractured when Radagon spoke.

"You do your lord no favors to justify slaughter." he hissed with a voice like ice, "Why is he a man worthy of my time?"

"...He…He's a knowledgeable man, and holds Altus with uncontested authority. Few scholars remain in a land like this. Make use of his talents, please." the scout implored, and Radagon simply glanced over his shoulder to Elia.

His expression conveyed his question, Is this a trifle worth indulging?

She nodded stiffly, keeping an arm around Miquella as she lifted the boy onto her shoulders, whispering, "Don't give out your name, not immediately."

Miquella nodded, knowing full well the sly advantage it was to be a child others would overlook and find unassuming. Information always flowed so easily from the assuming and the ignorant.

Radagon was hardly apologetic for the state the scouts returned in. The two were hastily ushered away by their companions, and the posse Gideon had amassed eyed the three warily.

The omen killers drew a particular unease from him, and he glowered at their haunting masks.

Elia was silent and kept her eyes forward, calmed only with Miquella gripping her hand and muttering to her, "Don't goad them, not now…not yet."

She exhaled tightly, acquiescing and swallowing her disdain as they ascended the steps towards the thrones. This was not a site of glory or pride to her, and she murmured to Radagon, "...I wouldn't have ever wished to drag you back to this spot."

"Nor would I to you." he intoned quietly, "Don't fret over old wounds and spilt blood, we know who we are here for this time." "Good, I hated to see a fight ensue." Miquella muttered.

"It certainly won't be between me and your father, not again." Elia assured.

Finally, they saw the visage of Gideon. Leaned upon his scepter, unseen eyes boring into the approaching entourage with open fascination and a cloying hunger to learn.

"So you've come. I bid you welcome, Elden Lord." Gideon's droning voice filled the tense silence, and Radagon stepped forward.

"I have. What business do you have with me, Sir Ofnir?"

"A great deal. You claim Liurnia as your domain, yet what of the remaining lands, and their state of disarray? Is your new age a fractured thing, my lord?" Gideon pressed, gesturing to the tree itself, "The ways of the old wither on the vine, and yet you live. How did you reclaim your mantle as king, when the lot of us were certain that for greater or worse, that Tarnished would claim the throne?"

Radagon stared, glancing sidelong to elia and then to the man in question, "There lies a simple answer to that question. I won our duel."

"A duel for a crown typically does not leave the losing party alive." Gideon commented, "Was it a stroke of mercy, on your part?"

The truth was a delicate thing, something that with increasing severity had painted a target upon Elia's back, and his own.

Omission would be favorable than the unabridged account.

"I needed a consort, and Marika has proven to be unfit in the eyes of every Tarnished and soul in this land." Radagon ground out.

"Mn, I suspected as much." Gideon nodded, tone dismissive and curt, "As well, what brought you all to the capitol, your business here ended with the restoration of the Elden Ring, no?"

"Personal effects and notes I thought too valuable to leave. It was a mundane diversion for us, quite the opposite for you."

"Quite," A wry laugh left Gideon then, "Might I speak to you without pretense, as one man of knowledge to a king?" Radagon furrowed his brow , "In private, you mean?"

"Unless your consort plays more than a passing role in leadership?" Gideon nodded, sending Elia a firm look, "She has her skills, yet they stray far from the annals of governance."

"Is she yours to comment upon, Ofnir?" Radagon interjected, squeezing Elia's shoulder once in passing as he strode forward, "If you wish to talk, man to man, walk with me, sir. We have many words to share, and I wish to know who leads the last of the Tarnished who haven't absconded to Stormveil or Liurnia."

Gideon nodded stiffly, silent and aware of the firm line that stood between him and the Elden Lord. It would be best to not lose his hand in prodding needlessly at whatever bauble the man kept on his arm.

Though it was peculiar to see a child in their midst. A trivial matter, for the moment.

A Plot Hatched in the Night

Radagon kept his gaze forward, silent and contemplative as Ofnir continued to speak in their walk along the city's remaining battlements. Once a city of gold and warmth, the cold damp air of late winter rendered the city a wash of grays and muted hues.

He sighed, glancing sidelong to Ofnir in an attempt to appear attentive.

"...I feel compelled to ask, was it you who breached Ephael, Elden Lord?" Gideon asked, peering up to the man intently.

He stiffened, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he gave a firm nod, "It was."

"What lay there that compelled you to force your way into the sanctuary of the Haligtree?" Or whom?

Radagon spoke frankly then, knowing full well his daughter would make herself known sooner or later when she left Liurnia,

"Malenia, she laid dormant, and I sought her out. Any father would be concerned with the wellbeing of his daughter."

Gideon set his jaw, those words striking a nerve as he sighed, "Of all the demigods to find, I would have sooner expected

Miquella."

"She was alone." Radagon refused to elaborate further, "She endured despite losing her great rune to Elia."

"...Of the demigods, who still remain? Most of them fell to your bride's sword." the man pressed, and Radagon fought the urge to smile.

"Radahn and Rykard walk the lands again, as does Morgott." He informed, and was pleased to see Gideon lag behind in his steps until he stood stock still.

"...She slew them, and reported the General's demise to me as readily as she did Godrick's." Gideon stared, "What wrought their revival?"

"An act of grace, perhaps the dying boon of the Erdtree as recompense for the damage we suffered since the Shattering." Radagon murmured, willing to leave the nature of the divine ambiguous for Gideon to muddle through alone, "...I see you still had a dialogue with her by the time Elia possessed two or so runes."

"...aye. We did not meet on amicable terms, yet she was effective on the field and provided the most tangible reports of Stormveil and Caelid than ym men had ever been able to attain." Gideon sighed as he pinched his brow, "Caelid being the waste it is, was a natural barrier…and The Fell Omen slaughtered all who deigned to approach Godrick's keep." "Morgott remains a capable warrior." Radagon affirmed.

"Three demigods to defend Liurnia. How have you not turned outward in conquest with that power at your disposal?" Gideon muttered.

"A war benefits none of us. How many have already died in the aftermath of the shattering, and to unify the land, what price would that take?" Radagon retorted.

"...Then I can trust you to be a reasoned man, if not a perplexing one." Gideon seemed to approve, "Have you relinquished your claim to Altus?"

Radagon nodded, "I have. If the bones of Leyndell would suit anyone, let it be another party than those it spurned. Elia nor I have a particular fondness for this place."

"...Was your time within the Golden Order not an era of resounding success?" the question slipped past Gideon's lip unbidden in blind curiosity.

"Would you deem my order a successful institution, in the wake of what depravity it allowed Marika to succumb to? You are a man of knowledge and secrets Ofnir, what do you know of my second wife?"

"...The plans she held for an eternal struggle were grim and hellish." Gideon nodded, "I…I had intended to confront your bride, yet she cleaved through this city with an unrivaled sense of urgency. I heard the war cries of her opponent and realized she'd slipped past me."

"You meant to stop her." Radagon raised a brow.

"I did. I thought she would only be enabling the cyclical stagnation Marika has intended for us all, that the Elden Throne would accept no one atop its seat. You proved my thesis to be wrong." Gideon dipped his head.

"...That was a relief to you." The Elden Lord realized, to which Gideon nodded.

"I don't crave the purgatory we've endured as undying things spurned by grace. A path forward has always been my intent, my purpose when I was plucked from my grave." Gideon intoned, "Now, the future lies ahead, obscure and ripe with potential."

"What future do you envision, if you clearly accept my role as a Lord within that framework?"

"An ordered age, one not dictated by the whims of errant demigods or queens driven mad by the death of their firstborn." the old man leaned into his staff, "Do you intend to cast your lot in with a new god, or to stand alone on your own might, Elden Lord?" "That decision isn't mine alone to dictate." Radagon replied.

"...Is she worthy to make that choice?" Gideon questioned. Radagon sent him a warning look, and Gideon held his ground, "Shall

I recount my observations of the woman you crowned, Radagon?"

"Enlighten me, if you believe your experience with her to be more informed than my own time with my wife?" Radagon challenged, arms crossed and his expression cold.

Gideon squared his shoulders, and obliged the man.

Elia kept her distance from Gideon's cohort, content to keep Miquella company as she sat on the throne, the boy perched on the armrest.

"...Do you think father will honestly consider that man an ally?" Miquella questioned.

"I think he'll find a use for Gideon, he's far too pragmatic to dispose of an academic so swiftly." Elia murmured, "...The omen killers though. How well do you imagine Godwyn and Morgott responding to those things ever showing up in Liurnia?" "It'll be a slaughter." Miquella groaned into his hands.

"...It's worth an attempt, but sooner or later I think we'll be brawling with Gideon's men…and I'd rather not do it so far from home or with you in the middle of it all." Elia confessed.

The boy huffed, "I may appear to be a child, but need I remind you I am my father's son and far from helpless?"

"I know." Elia nodded. "All the same, I don't wish to see you or your father thrown into a fight."

"...Malenia already frets over me, why do you feel compelled to do the same?" Miquella muttered, sending Elia a bewildered look, "It's not expected of father's wife to care for another woman's child."

"I am allowed to be concerned for a friend and family member however." she countered quietly, "I think I'd be a poor partner to him if I held only apathy for you and your siblings."

"You get along well with Radahn and Godwyn, tolerate Malenia's disposition, and don't overstep with Rykard's temperament. Is that not enough?" Miquella muttered, "...It's more consideration than what Marika showed for her step-children or the children she did not want."

Elia gently rested a hand atop his head, ruffling the golden locks with a wry smile, "Try not to overthink it. I won't be overbearing."

Miquella peered up at her with raised brows, and idly tugged on her braid to get her to lean down. She fell for the trick, and cackled when the boy ruffled her hair with an impish grin.

Sellen had not anticipated seeing Rennala again so soon, much less her pale ghost of a daughter.

The Carian Queen had arrived early near dawn, allowed entry without question or protest from Lenore and her garrison. Who would be so foolish as to contest a queen in her own institution. That deference had never faded entirely, and only flourished with the woman regaining her own sanity.

Sellen rubbed her brow and rose from her chair, waving Rennala into her office, "...Welcome, but - pray tell why are you here so soon, Rennala?"

The lack of formality would have earned Rennala's stern correction once, now the woman simply braced her hands on the table, blue eyes meeting Sellen's with cold focus, "I need to speak with Elia, sooner than later, Lady Sellen."

Her tone made the Graven Witch pause, and Sellen exhaled tightly, "...Elia hasn't returned yet from Mount Gelmir. We should be so lucky as to see her before the spring thaws at this rate."

Rennala blinked, "...Oh." Her voice was small and sheepish as she wrung her wrists, "I will wait then, tis urgent I see her to make preparations upon her arrival."

"...Enlighten me, please? What's happened to make this an urgent matter?" Sellen questioned, flicking her eyes to the assassin flanking Rennala. The ghost white face, dusk hued eyes, and dark hair made for a ghastly sight.

A Noxian woman.

"Nokron still teems with life, a former companion of mine resides there…and is a direct relation to Elia."

Sellen's eyes brightened, "Megathirio still lives?"

Rennala shook her head, and uttered a dreadful name, "Rami."

The witch paled and stepped back, "...Your swordsman should have been a dead man when the nobility turned on him."

"I would have assumed the very same, Sellen. We both stand corrected." Rennala looked over her shoulder at Una with a tense expression, "He took you for a bride, no?"

"He did." Una informed, arms crossed and languid as a lazing cat as she nodded to the pair, "I need to commandeer my niece, and the Queen insists on accompanying us to Nokron to see him."

"...I see." Sellen murmured, "The most I can do for you is once more appoint you to a guest room during the wait."

Ranni stepped closer then, and hesitantly spoke, "My letters, did they ever arrive?"

Sellen slowly nodded, "They did, Godwyn received the note intended for him. Elia will receive hers upon her arrival home."

The princess nodded, and hurried off with a newfound sense of urgency. Rennala nearly reached for Ranni, and exhaled tightly,

"...Be careful, daughter."

"Godwyn won't broker war so casually, and another figure holds his ire these days." Sellen attempted to assure Rennala, stepping around the desk, "Surely you've seen the fortifications?"

"I have, was this village threatened?" Rennala's tone sharpened in concern.

"Not directly, no. Gideon Ofnir seems to have nominal control over Altus…and still roams with the same Omen Killers and perfumers who slew the albinuaric village." Sellen sighed, "Godwyn is keen to see him gutted before the season is out."

"...The all knowing, he was a scholar Elia contended with." Rennala held her chin in thought, recalling the name from Elia's many tea sessions with the Queen, "Why is he keeping such a brutish cohort?"

"I don't know, beyond the sheer virtue of strength and numbers, his whims are lost upon us. A scout was sent from his encampment, however. He seeks an audience with Radagon." "Just Radagon?" Rennala questioned.

Sellen's smile grew, "I hold the impression that the man isn't as knowledgeable as his reputation claims."

A fire burned. Smoldering and golden, it quashed the biting chill that crept in from the opening door as Godwyn hurriedly entered.

Tailing after him, uncertain and contemplative, was Melina.

Morgott's cabin was a tall one room structure, holding little more than a massive cot and furs at the moment, with a proper kitchen having yet to take shape beyond the hearth that warmed the dwelling.

Morgott merely grunted in acknowledgement, yet the persistent scowl upon his face lessened at the sight of his fair haired brother. Melina earned a nod and little else, neither scorn nor approval from the man quite yet. He sat near the hearth atop a stool, turning and searing the prawns and fish that cooked in the heavy iron pot.

"Sit?" Morgott nodded to the furs adorning the floor near the hearth, "Fish is the only fare thee can find in abundance here."

"Thank you for hosting us." Godwyn gently clapped his shoulder. Morgott dipped his head with a brief smile, an expression which puzzled Melina.

"Tis an act that doesn't warrant thanks, yet why is she here?" Morgotta questioned, nodding to Melina, his tone neutral and hardly moving to direct her out of his home.

"...She is family, and I hear you two had a civil discussion despite past tensions?" Godwyn answered.

"We did." Melina crossed her arms, a bit uncomfortable to acknowledge that fact.

"Then eat, presuming thou possess an appetite." Morgott shrugged, gesturing to them to take their pick of the skewered prawns and fish.

Melina tentatively made her pick, and murmured, "...thank you."

Morgott nodded, and glanced at Godwyn, "Thou took part in a patrol last I heard, and the graven witch showed at my doorstep asking for my assistance in this town's defense. What has transpired, Godwyn?"

The prince stiffened with a tense exhale, "...We have a lout in Altus amassing more omen killers and men to his cohort, and has a history of aggression to the albinuarics who sought refuge here. Gideon Ofnir."

Morgott nearly choked on his own spit, fists clenched as he grimaced, "The all knowing hack still lives? I would have assumed he found his end upon Elia's swords knowing the woman's predilection for conflict."

Melina grimaced, "He led the roundtable hold with undisputed seniority. When he slew the albinaurics, Elia formally departed the hold with little intention to return until the time came to burn the tree itself… what actions made Gideon an enemy of yours,

Morgott?"

"His spies were incessant flies prodding at Leyndell with reckless abandon. They would return to their lord in pieces, and even still, he sent more and more Tarnished in vain to the capitol or towards the shard bearers." The omen king sighed, "If I was the undaunted wall every ambitious soul would die too, Gideon was the man to encourage this endless cycle with enough resources to make them bold, yet not successful. Perhaps your Elia made headway for paving her own path forward, he never seemed to gain much of a foothold in the provinces or against my knights…despite them facing many, many encounters with that woman. Clearly that information never reached Ofnir."

Godwyn raised his brows, "...You were committed to your hunt, even after she escaped."

"I was. One does not simply ignore half a dozen runes laying in the hands of a woman whom surpassed Vyke." Morgott admitted, "Yet Ofnir roams uncontested, with armed men, and we simply sit and wait for his response? I thought Sellen to be of a sharper mind than that."

"If we commit to a war unprompted, we could kill this village in its cradle." Godwyn sighed, "Ofnir would die, yet at what cost?"

"Cut off the head of the procession, and his assortment of tarnished and omen killers will scatter like dust on the wind." Morgott uttered quietly, "Gideon collected and built his order of stray, aimless, and desperate souls. Some have risen above that lot, others clearly have not to still follow him when other options have finally been placed before them."

Melina hugged her knees to her chest, voicing a thought that was a spark to the powderkeg, "Men have died quietly in the night, nor are we known to his people as Sellen and Lenore are."

"Failure could cost thee dearly." Morgott warned, "Yet it is a possibility."

Godwyn clapped his hands together with a heavy exhale, "You would help me in this, you two? To kill him?"

Melina nodded, "...He denied her shelter and safety, and it nearly cost Elia her life when Morgott found her."

The omen blinked, his mouth growing dry, "Consider our score settled, and his death as recompense, Melina."

Her eyes widened sharply, and she extended a hand to Morgott with a soft nod, "I shall do so gladly, Morgott."

Morgott's gnarled hand was heavy and stiff in its grip, shaking her hand as he inclined his head, "We have an accord, then." as he shifted his gaze to Godwyn, Morgott asked, "How soon shall we plot this assassination, brother?"

"...Sooner than later. Elia and Radagon will return eventually with the others, I would rather have Gideon dead and counting worms before they return. An absence will be harder to justify once they return." Godwyn mused, knowing full well the ire he may face. The satisfaction of killing a bastard was worth such a trifle-

A knock at the door. Followed by three more taps.

"...Were we expecting another guest?" Morgott raised an eyebrow.

"No, we were not." Godwyn rose from his seat and trudged to the door, nudging it open to survey their newcomer. Only to see the wide brim of a white witches cap, and the four clasped hands of Ranni. The prince set his jaw, and gripped the frame tightly,

"...I wasn't aware you had returned this soon, princess. What business do you have with us?"

Morgott peered at Ranni, and called over, "Get in. Even should thee not feel a chill, we all do and the heat is fleeting."

At his command, Ranni hurriedly gathered her skirts and ducked inside the cabin to Godwyn's annoyance. The princess seated herself atop a stray stool, taking in the sight of Morgott's humble accommodations and spoke softly, "...didst thou build this thyself, Morgott?"

"I did, twas a labor plagued by many interruptions of mages and siblings alike." Morgott rested his cheek atop his knuckles.

As Godwyn stalked over and took a seat near Melina, he gave Ranni a dead eyed stare, "I read your letter, yet the time I spend with my brother is hardly the time to discuss past affairs, Ranni."

"...I apologize for that overstep, yet I had wished to lay matters to rest sooner than later with a sudden reunion." Ranni wrung her wrists, and dipped her head, "Thou has my apologies, and a wish to atone for past misdeeds."

Godwyn pinched his brow, unwilling to forgive, yet not one to kick the girl either. Exhaling tightly he spoke, "I hear those words, yet see little action done to convey those sentiments. I bid you no ill will Ranni, tis all I can promise you."

"What wouldst thou ask of me, to make amends?"

"An assassination is a heavy sin to repent for, one I refuse to quanitfy into an easy sum for you to make reparations for." Godwyn shook his head, "I don't wish for an indenture over the head of any of my siblings, beloved or estranged."

"...Nothing at all, truly?" Ranni pressed.

Godwyn threw up his hands with a huff, "Unless you'd be amenable to killing Gideon Ofnir, no. I don't have a task or favor to ask of you!"

The princess froze, "I know that name."

"He has a reputation. What do you know of him?" Godwyn relented, willing to entertain the notion of Ranni's assistance in a rare moment of opportunism.

"An infamous man with many prodding spies hoping to ascertain my whereabouts and rune." Ranni informed with intense loathing, "Later he would be a nuisance to Elia in her journey… his disdain pushed her further towards Liurnia for asylum. It was a fortunate boon to me when she entered my service for a time, yet it strained her resources and ensured she would only be safe under Mother or I's watch. I possess no fondness for Gideon Ofnir, yet what has he done to warrant his execution?"

Godwyn laced his hands together, his expression cold and foreboding, "He employs the ilk who slay my brother's kind for sport, and massacred the Albinuarics, a peaceful folk who committed no sin than to withhold the whereabouts of Miquella."

"A loathsome wretch he is then." Ranni shook her head in disappointment, "I will ask again, godwyn, whilst thou accept my help in this task?"

With a tense nod, Godwyn relented, "...This isn't restitution, but a boon I will remember and appreciate, Ranni."

"Tis all I need to hear, to find it an act worth doing."

Gideon eyed Radagon warily as he continued his account, methodical and near apathetic in his words. Yet with how tightly the man gripped his scepter, or the clipped nature of his words, there was a deep seated ire and disdain rooted within Gideon.

First, the woman had been smuggled into the hold by her maiden, wounded and stubbornly clinging to life. Laid with the deathbed companion Fia for respite and personal pleasure, and had insulted her host upon their first meeting. Gideon had thought little of a Tarnished weak enough to fall for a necrophile and insult her host. Nor had he expected her to survive longer than perhaps a month in Limgrave.

He had been wrong.

The woman crawled out of Godrick's grafted hellscape with a rune to bear, and had proven Margitt indeed could be slain in battle. It had cost her a week's worth of rest and a mending leg, and once more Elia graced Fia's arms, and was inducted as member of the hold. Finally, Enia would give an audience to a Tarnished, the crone taking to her charge with keen curiosity.

…It was strange, to see hope and a meager change of pace in the cyclical nature of the roundtable. First came Godrick's rune, then Rennala's, and finally she surmounted the General in the wastes of Caelid. Yet she refused to pursue the capital, despite the path ahead finally open for conquest. The scent of rot followed, the girl absconding down other avenues secondary to the Elden Ring and Leyndell.

She chased down Diallos to pry the boy from certain death in the company of Rykard's recusants, and then, she pursued Miquella with concerted focus. A newfound urgency marked her search, likely for the fabled boons of unalloyed gold to cure the afflicted victims of rot. It was well known Millicent was a party Elia doted upon, once his scouts caught sight of the pair departing Caelid.

A tolerable situation, and beneath his concern, until Nepheli was led astray and indulged by elia in a vain act of heroism. What did their grand slaughter of the omen killers grant the Albinuarics? Albus still died, Latenna still perished, and Nepheli had outlasted her use as a loyal caughter. Twas a shame.

Elia was scarcely seen in the hold, and with her absence, the information became less reliable, ever more scattered and lost to the fog of uncertainty. Gideon had lost an informant he could not replace, and burned a bridge that would cost him the key to

Ephael. The waning months would be an estranged time as the woman dug in her heels into Liurnia and Nepheli in Limgrave. Slowly, Tarnished began to bleed from the hold and outlying provinces into the tentative sanctuaries the women had made in their respective domains. Elia would keep her secrets, and either die in battle with them, or ascend the throne.

That was, until the fingers themselves went mad.

Tarnished fled from the hold as rats fled a sinking ship. Smoldering embers reached Gideon's study, dancing and casting a fell omen for what was to come. The Erdtree burned, and the stagnant age of the shattering was put to the torch.

Let the flame of ambition free them from Marika's stagnation. A horrific fate of eternal struggle and despair to finally cement this Goddess' disastrous attempt at suicide. Elia had liberated them in some sense, and perhaps to that fact alone, Gideon stayed his hand from seeking retribution.

The woman had been a nuisance, yet even now served a purpose, and was a useful tool to chisel out the last vestiges of the Golden Order's dregs.

Gideon finished his recollections, and looked to Radagon, "Now, do you understand my sentiments towards your bride being a greater war asset than a leader, particularly if you are present to reshape the land?"

Radagon narrowed his eyes, "I sense that your resentment will always define your perspective, your praise is not worth much to me if it will always be paired with passing disdain for the woman I rule alongside." He sighed, "Tell me, Ofnir, what were your plans for Miquella? Did you truly think following the trail Elia left for you would be a substantial path forward?"

"Her reports of Limgrave, Liurnia, and Caelid were thorough, and we bartered as one does for valuable information. Therein laid the precedent to deem the woman reliable, before she would balk at the necessary price to find Ephael."

"The same people you assaulted now look to her for safety and guidance. To be aligned with their assailant would be a betrayal of faith and trust that was not lightly placed in her and this community."

"Is that your answer then, to refuse an alliance?" Gideon furrowed his brow.

"I have no love for your methods, yet no cause for war. Keep it as such and Liurnia won't trouble you."

"Neutrality it is then." Gideon grimaced, "Our business is concluded then, Elden Lord, take your bride and…stray?"

Radagon sent the man a firm look, "My child. We'll be going. I advise you to do the same. Leyndell is hardly a hallowed or consecrated city any longer."

Gideon froze, "...You couldn't have sired a child with her. The boy, is he-"

" You will not accost my son, Ofnir.My word is final." Radagon's tone turned scathing, and the scholar eyed Radagon intently with open hostility. The Elden Lord gripped the hammer at his hip, braced and ready to strike.

Neither party dared move an inch, watching and waiting.

The Gilded Facade of Glory

Gold still wept through the fissures of Radagon's hammer, and Gideon realized with mounting dread what could have laid waste to a once immaculate throne room. Radagon lunged before the man had a chance to lower his staff, and the hammer struck home to send Gideon sprawling against the stone floor

Gideon hurriedly raised a hand, calling out,"Wait! ...Un-Unalloyed gold was a marvel and a miracle to many, I sought out your son for he was a scholar and brilliant mind the shattering nearly snuffed out." he explained as he strained to sit upright with a wheeze, "I meant him no harm."

"No, you only assaulted those who posed a hindrance to you and refused to comply." Radagon grimaced as he lowered his weapon, "Stay away from my family, if you don't fear a gruesome end by my hands or my wife, fear Malenia. She would have cut you down without hesitation."

"Can you truly carve a sanctuary in Liurnia alone, and hope it will last against the cults your bride left in disarray?! Rykard's manor still teems with some sort of life given Diallos was foolish enough to return with the serpent king's spawn - and what of Mohg?! The omen may be dead, yet his underlings are still festering as maggots to a carcass." Gideon hissed and rose to his feet, "Sitting idly by with a pretty wife and contented son is a luxury only you can afford, the rest of us-"

"You kept the omen killers." Radagon interjected, "The tarnished you still have I understand, they were aimless and needed direction. To keep the half mad executioners and torturers of the people my order subjugated? Gideon, you are a man who would never release the power you hold. If not by raw information and organization, then by might and force you will keep your influence."

Gideon clenched his fists, "I could not afford to be picky about the aid and men I use, particularly as your budding town and

Limgrave thins the pool."

"That isn't a problem I can mitigate, nor will I refuse to shelter those who seek us out." Radagon replied evenly, and shook his head, "Reconcile with your daughter Nepheli if you truly need shelter and safety in a region more favorable than Altus."

The old scholar exhaled tightly, "You truly wish to be an obstinate wall, Elden Lord?"

Radagon glared, "Anything less would have my wife at your throat. Consider this a mercy Ofnir, we will be leaving."

"...Go, before I have grounds to send my men after her." Gideon ground out.

"They would not last long." Radagon grimaced, "Nor will you."

Elia grew restless, and muttered, "...Should we go after them?"

Still seated atop the throne, she wrung her wrists, eyeing the fallen and decayed leaves littering the ashen floor. …What ran through Marika's thoughts when she sat atop this throne and saw a golden citadel beneath her?

Miquella tugged on Elia's sleeve, "I wouldn't be opposed to it… though we haven't heard the sound of a scuffle yet."

"Yet." she raised a brow, "You think Radagon would strike the first blow?"

"I do. That Gideon fellow will make the first verbal blunder though, either being as waspish as Rykard is towards your existence, or if he tries to justify his use of force." Miquella murmured, "...Many ill things happened under the Order, yet the Omen Killers were a branch that functioned independently and with immense scrutiny from Marika and Father both. It was by the will of the fingers that they kept their position."

Elia grimaced, "...That is truly foul."

Miquella nodded in agreement, "And…he turned them against another victimized group. The albinuarics brokered no war or ill intent with other communities in my time. Some accompanied Malenia and her knights in the first expedition to establish

Ephael… the others, they should have been safe in Liurnia, before Rennala broke entirely."

"She was in a poor state when I found her, isolated and alone. If not for that egg, I don't believe she'd have weathered an age of imprisonment. Not alone or without some beacon of hope." Elia sighed.

"I'm curious, when you returned to Raya Lucaria with my father, did she take it well?" Miquella asked, ever blunt and keen to find an answer.

"Rennala - she lobbed a book at his head, was willing to help me fight him if he truly was a tyrant and was very skeptical of our arrangement initially." Elia rambled, holding her face with a tired exhale, "She's been remarkably civil, yet I keep pondering if some lingering affection will rekindle her love or fury for him or vice versa-"

"I can't comment on how messy their emotions could become. I do know father is happier with you than he ever was with my… with Marika." Miquella grew quiet, "I didn't imagine he'd easily find another partner, he was as much an island as Malenia was." "Thank you… and your sister does make herself into an Atlas in support of you." Elia commented, worry creeping into her tone.

"I know…and it doesn't bode well for when I won't be that perpetual child she's been the sword and shield for." the boy confessed, and didn't shy away when Elia drew him to her chest in a loose embrace.

"We'll adapt, as we always do." Elia murmured, "She may not like me much, yet I don't wish to see her stagnate or suffer to find a new place in the world. I'll help her if she lets me." "...I do have a suggestion for that matter." Miquella offered.

"Is it another duel?" Elia groaned.

"It's a duel." he nodded, "Combat is Malenia's language, challenge her on even terms, and let that outcome clear the air."

Elia rested her cheek in her palm, "...For your sake, alright. You are known for having a good idea or two."

Miquella grinned with beaming pride, hopping off of the throne and taking Elia's hand, "Come, we should find father before Ofnir steps in it."

She shook her head with a dry laugh, "You assume I'm motivated to save Gideon's hide from a beating, Miquella."

"I'm beginning to understand why father calls you a grackle." Miquella deadpanned and sent her a knowing look.

She halted midstep, brows flying high into her hairline and muttering with a red face, "I hadn't realized you heard him use that nickname."

The boy cocked his head, "You're not very subtle people, is it such a surprise?"

"... It's more so I never quite considered anyone paid us much mind out of the demigods, perhaps aside from Radahn's goading." Elia rubbed her neck with a sheepish expression.

"I do." Miquella corrected with a small smile, "Father smiles more with you around, that alone is reason enough to notice."

Radagon was surprisingly easy to find, hammer in hand and storming down the stairwell, his breath catching in his throat as he saw Elia and Miquella at the end of the hall. Elia's expression tightened when she saw the hammer drawn, and she bit her lip in growing worry.

Miquella shook his head, "...did you and Gideon already come to blows."

Radagon tensely nodded, "We're leaving. He knows who we all are, and has little capacity to negotiate or change his methods." As he spoke, he lifted Miquella onto his shoulders, and laced his hand through Elia's. There was an urgency in his step, his expression grim.

Elia sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, "...You don't think the peace is going to last with him."

"No, I don't. Elia, what else did you find in the shunning grounds?" Radagon cast a lingering glance to her, sweat beading down his brow.

"...a projection of Mohg guarded an altar in those catacombs. I never dared to approach beyond Melina's warning." Elia whispered.

"Then you know of the skeleton in the two finger's closet. The frenzied flame." Radagon sighed, "I hoped it would lay in obscurity.

With Gideon poking about…we have one task to see to, and then we leave this star's forsaken city."

Elia swallowed hard, "...What are you hoping to do, seal the altar itself?"

"Yes." Radagon nodded, "I won't see the flame set loose if a champion meanders down here as Vyke did."

Miquella clung tightly, "Mohg's apparition, is it dispelled?"

A soft hand gently carded through the boy's locks, soothing and shushing his anxieties. Elia peered up at the boy, murmuring,

"He's dead, and if he dares to stirr, your father and I will kill him swiftly."

The young empyrean relaxed a fair bit, murmuring a soft word in thanks.

Sensing they were on borrowed time, the three made haste to depart the palace, peeling off into the city's ashen streets and hunting for an entrance into the catacombs. Elia strained to find familiar routes in the remnants of Leyndell, swearing under her breath.

"If I'd known I was going to be returning to this deathtrap, I'd have dealt with the fingers before burning that gods forsaken tree!" Elia swore, tossing her hands up towards the looming husk.

Radagon cleared his throat, "If we cannot find an entrance, I will make one. Step back, and be ready to run. This won't be discreet in the slightest."

Without a second thought, Elia took Miquella from Radagon's shoulders, and dashed away until she'd put several yards between them and her husband. Heaving the hammer high, Radagon braced his stance and swung down with unfettered strength.

Stone crumbled like aged parchment. Brittle, feeble, and scattering in the wind under the golden shockwave. As the dust began to clear, he reached for Elia and Miquella, securing an arm around her waist and taking a running start. Elia's breath caught in her throat and she clung to him with a strained yell.

"A-Are you mad?!" she hissed as they plunged into the rank darkness below. Wind whipped through them all, Miquella holding fast to Radagon's neck as Elia held his arm in a death grip.

Her question only earned a grunt from Radagon as he landed into a crouch, "No - simply urgent. Unless you wish to fight another Omen Killer once they flock to the wreckage I've made?" He peered ahead into the darkened tunnels, knowing full well what assortment of omens and half mad vagrants they would find down here.

Elia shook her head as she was set to her feet, still holding Miquella until the boy climbed to perch himself atop her shoulders, "No…I certainly don't." she whispered when she caught her breath.

"Let's go then," Radagon clutched her hand tightly, needing little direction as he followed the flowing stream towards its hellish cistern.

Brandish the Knife

Slowly but surely, Elia began to recognize the dim catacombs snaking beneath Leyndell. Radagon's haphazard entrance had put them far from the needed lifts, making for a frenzied sprint through infested halls. Thus far, none of Gideon's men seemed to be on their heels, nor were Radagon and Elia likely to wait and see how quickly they could catch up.

Miquella's eyes were wide at the sight, shirt tugged over his nose against the stench and grimacing at the abundance of decay and bloodshed mired in filth and excrement, "...Father, were you tasked in constructing this place?"

Radagon dipped his head and ran a hand over the brick wall, remembering the labours Marika had tasked him with in the early days of her reign. Leyndell was the first of many sites he would erect, from its highest towers to its deepest gutters. "Marika set me to work when I showed an aptitude for architecture and envisioning designs fit for a goddess. Godfrey was no scholar and needed the most as a general…I could be spared and put to use in creating a city capable to withstand assaults of dragonfire."

He continued with a sigh, "The shunning grounds…they were a later addition to the cisterns, improvised, then fortified and strengthened as the Curse of the Omen became ostracized by the order, and could not be cured. Thus it was contained.

Godwyn…he took immense issue to this project, understandably so."

"...Marika tasked you to forge Mohg and Morgott's shackles, didn't she?" Elia whispered, remembering the grim talismans she had found in her first foray here, tool she was ashamed but pragmatic to use.

Radagon went silent, his face pale and words leaving him. Bright gold eyes stared at her, conveying his confusion readily enough.

How did she know of this skeleton in his closet?

"I scoured this area thoroughly…and had the sense that the omen I'd fought multiple times would be prowling this area, or guarding the capital. I hadn't expected him to be a king…but he made his position as a defender of the Erdtree clear, a final confrontation was expected. An omen who wasn't stripped of his horns? He had to have been here at least once in his lifetime, and I found two sets of fettered chains to prove that theory correct." Elia sighed, "...He was ready to kill me at the sight of Mohg's cuff."

Radagon swore into his palm, " I truly wish you had never had to see this place."

"What's done is done. Morgott plucked a personal memento of mine…I was spiteful enough to use something of his if it would finally get me into the tree." Elia murmured.

"...It does add context to his particular disdain for you." Radagon spoke, "He regarded you as little more than a staunch opportunist, and Gideon espoused much of the same judgment with greater contempt for falling out of line with his ambitions."

Elia blinked, "I thought you would have been badgering over philosophies or the right of Kings, why did I pertain to that conversation?"

"He questions what age we can lead as we hide away in Liurnia, and seems to view you more as a war asset than a leader."

Radagon recounted with furrowed brows, "He saw me as the leader in this partnership, at least initially."

"I gave him no shortage of annoyance and inconvenience once Nepheli left with me. Information ceased flowing, and he seemed to have his hands tied as I cut him off." Elia shrugged, "...We could still kill him, if it proves necessary."

Radagon pinched his brow, "And what of Raya Lucaria. Gideon has to possess more than a dozen omen killers to his name, much less the chaos a perfumer can do in battle. Miasma and other hellish concoctions could turn a village into a red smear upon a map. No. We don't invite an enemy horde without proper planning, even killing him could earn us a disarrayed mass of furious lunatics."

She sighed, "...And even now we're still making haste to avoid contact, despite having a goddess at your disposal?"

"...Forgive me, yet I don't wish to test what you can do in combat yet." Radagon confessed, "Not alone without reinforcements. I struck Gideon on impulse…and ideally, that will keep him frozen long enough for us to organize."

"Our luck won't hold." Miquella murmured, "At best, we've delayed a conflict that was destined to arise predicated on mutual disdain and past transgressions of assault and murder."

"Then we pray we make it home before it comes to war or any protracted conflict." Elia sighed, "...Miquella, how adept are you at calculating the needed coordinates for a portal?"

"It's not my specialty, that would have been Ranni or Rykard's skillset," the Empyrean murmured, "What are you thinking of doing, Elia?"

She stared ahead as they walked, "We don't have time on our side, not enough to claw out of these catacombs discreetly. We need to be home before the day is out, preferably."

Radagon cleared his throat, "I could be of use then. Remember, I studied under and then with Rennala for three centuries-"

He was lightly tugged down into a kiss, gratitude clear in Elia's voice as she murmured, "Thank you for being a man of many talents." Giving a stiff nod, Radagon replied, "I do my best."

"Your footwork is still heavy and unbalanced," Malenia lightly tapped the shin of Millicent's prosthetic with her blade, "With two disparate limbs, your stance must change to accommodate that discrepancy in weight and force. Elia may be able to pantomime the waterfowl dance without this understanding, you cannot."

Millicent's eye twitched at yet another adjustment to her stance alone in the span of fifteen minutes, with their sparring session not having even started. It seemed in the absence of her father and brother, Millicent was the focus of Malenia's attention. Rather than sour and waspish comments, the woman was diligent, focused, and somewhat prone to micromanaging the finer details of swordplay. It was an odd and intense change of pace that left Millicent with a throbbing headache and stiff shoulders from holding her blade aloft. She moved her feet as instructed, finally seeming to appease her instructor.

"You do learn." Malenia murmured, "Were you taught the ways of the sword, or did you learn alone?"

"...I was self taught until I crossed paths with Elia." Millicent informed, to which Malenia nodded in understanding.

"Tis fitting, Gowry would not have been much of an instructor. Never train alone from here on out, it only embeds your errors." Malenia returned to the opposing side of the ring - or rather the loosely outlined circle of dirt that stood aside from the encampment they had made. Thus far, her group had pushed through the outer frontier of Altus, close to the Liurnian border since splitting from Radagon and Elia.

Millicent readied her blade, not acknowledging the comment about her father as she nodded. Malenia stepped forward, that slow and confident stride she had possessed when they fought under the Haligtree. Millicent rushed forward, less certain but no less ambitious to try as she swung for Malenia's side. Unalloyed gold met steel, the prosthetic arm catching Millicent's sword as a kick to the girl's sternum sent her staggering back with a wheezing breath.

"Hastiness garners you no advantage." Malenia shook her head, giving Millicent the berth to catch her breath. This was a lesson, not a beating, that much was clear with Malenia's cool demeanor, "Is swordplay the sole tool you make use of, or are you as liable to dabble into spells as Elia"

Millicent blinked, and slowly shook her head, "...no, Sellen only mentored Elia in glintstone sorcery - she hadn't been pleased to see an academy student shirk her academics, Tarnished or not."

Malenia raised a brow, "Father took up incantations and sorcery, as did Miquella, our bloodline seems amenable to honing magic. Radahn is a testament to mastering both magic and swordplay. Why not you?"

Millicent gave a small shrug and dipped her head, "I hadn't considered it an option, time was short and the rot was growing harder to fight." Meek and shy once more, she grew quiet.

Malenia's expression shifted, gold eyes widening faintly, "...What state were you in, Millicent - when we fought?" Unbidden, sympathy clawed at her tone, softening it into an unfamiliar note as Malenia stepped forward. The cloying call of the rot was an ever persistent vice, even when restrained by unalloyed gold, it was the shadow on the wall, a powder keg waiting to ignite and overtake her as a vessel.

A metal hand closed over Millicent's shoulder, "...I did try to kill you, for fear of what would happen when the likes of us lose our sanity and slip to the musings of a god. You bloomed in your desperation… yet you didn't taint the Haligtree, that much was apparent when Father found me."

Millicent didn't meet her gaze, "My sister would have survived, maybe. I was not going to gamble with grace and let her be felled, much less to face you alone."

"A wise mindset in the heat of a battle. Yet how far had the rot progressed when you bloomed…I don't recall you possessing two prosthetics then." Malenia pressed.

Millicent sighed, "I fought my sisters, the four ambushed Elia and I as we traveled to find Miquella and you. They left us in rougher shape, but we won but I don't see why it's pertinent-"

"...Fellow Daughters of Aeonia, like you. Were they also raised under Gowry's roof?" Malenia lifted Millicent's face by the chin.

The girl swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes, yes they were."

"Why would they turn on their family then?" Malenia muttered, puzzled by the revelation, "You and Elia had already faced one battle…your nerves were wired and already you stood a precipice for their betrayal? I…I bloomed in a point of desperation and emotional turmoil. It seems you bloomed under parallel circumstances."

"I…I was close to Pollyanna, she tended to me in my delirious days in Sellia, before I was bequeathed the needle. The others had been raised and left the home sooner than I did." Millicent murmured, holding herself tightly, "They were furious with me, to leave without a farewell to father, to cling to a tarnished as if she were my flesh and blood and not them… They suffered a more severe betrayal than I did."

Malenia exhaled tightly, "...I say this not out of hatred for your father, but concern for what was nearly done to you."

Millicent tensed, "Say it. Please, just say what you have to say about him."

"Gowry was their senior authority, having raised them all. Who else would have followed you to the Haligtree, for what reason than to see you slain and pushed over the brink? Gowry understands rot as well as a maiden understands the fundamentals of the golden order, intensely and as instinctively as breathing." Malenia whispered, her grip tightening over Millicent's shoulders, "...I…I do regret how our meeting unfolded. Yet understand this is not the fate I would have wished for any offspring born of my power, be it by flesh or by flowering. Gowry betrayed you, Millicent."

"...Tell me why you wanted him dead, please?" Millicent's voice cracked, her gold eyes watering then.

"He was affable, patient, and terribly charming as an acolyte. Beyond my knights…I was wanting for company and I found it in him," Malenia confessed, "He tried to make an idol of me, and apparently you were the next experiment that would succeed. I cannot speak of his love as a father, yet he had clear intentions in sending your sisters after you, and made sacrifices of my daughters." Malenia whispered, her tone leaden and heavy to lay claim to the ill begotten progeny and her massacre of Caelid, "...Do you wish for me to handle him, if you cannot?"

Millicent clenched her fists, her face burning to have been played for a fool, "...Face him with me, when we finally return to cleanse Caelid?"

Malenia nodded, "I shall, in the meanwhile, I think it would be best to ask for Radahn's insights into training you, Millicent. I believe you need a more versatile set of tools than swordplay alone to fight."

"...Because I won't match you?" the girl asked, dipping her head.

"Because you are not me, and can very well succeed with your own merits." Malenia corrected.

Ranni was proving more fundamental to Godwyn's heist than he had ever imagined initially. To travel to altus on foot or horseback would bog them down for days, time they did not have to waste if they wished to succeed. Thus, a portal was needed.

The temporal relations of time and space eluded Godwyn, fundamentalism and the way of dragons had been his shining skillset as Crown Prince. Ranni's studies lent her a keen understanding of spatial manipulation, one of the many graces lent to her by the Moon.

The phases of the celestial body adorned the complex array chalked into the floor of Morgott's cabin, the omen crossing his arms and eyeing Ranni intently, "Should this damage my home, thee shall be the one to mend it, Princess."

Ranni sent him a dry look, as if insulted by his doubt in her craft, "Thy home will be unblemished by dawn, Morgott, fear not."

Four arms articulately chalked in glyph after glyph, the undulating lines of the array which flowed like water in their orbital waves. Blue flame glowed atop each of the candles poised at the eight lunar phases, crystals of opal and moonstone gleaming as catalysts for the energy that would soon flow.

Melina seemed to be particularly fascinated by the art, crouched and inspecting the sprawling linework in awe, "...Who taught you this, princess?"

Ranni's glass eye met gold, and she was taken aback for a moment by the uncanny resemblance, "T'was my mother who imparted these lessons unto me. I never learned thy name, yet thou were Elia's maiden once, no?"

The maiden nodded, hands tightly clasped, "I am. You were a benefactor of hers for a time."

"That I was, and hope to find us on agreeable terms once more." Ranni murmured as she chalked in the last phase of the moon.

Her own sigil, the dark moon. "We parted on unsteady terms, the chill stalemate has worn on long enough in my view."

Godwyn raised a brow then, "You tried to become her consort, if I remember the chain of events properly?"

Ranni dropped the chalk, frozen stiff and straightening her hat as she stood, "...If my age of stars had been to her liking, yes. I would have appreciated her help and companionship, my plans went farther than they could have by my lonesome when she assisted me."

Morgott cleared his throat, "If preparations are made, we should not tarry. The night is young, and Ofnir awaits. Where shall we be landing, princess?"

"His energy is near the epicenter of Altus….Leyndell." Ranni's voice trailed off in uncertainty, "...Tis potent there, brimming with an energy that almost engulfs his own."

"The Erdtree must still contain an immense wealth of residual power." Godwyn mused, "We have him pinned, let's go."

Ranni beckoned them all closer, "Come hither, and join hands. Do not breathe nor open your eyes once I've begun the chant until I instruct you all to do so."

Slowly, and with a bit of hesitancy, Morgott and Melina entered the ring. Melina went to Ranni's left, the omen to her right and took a hand, finally joined by godwyn to complete the quartet. The chalk flashed with energy as Ranni joined her second set of hands into a prayer, an old and lilting Carian dialect leaving her lips as her eye flashed as white as the moon, and the flame of the hearth cooled into cinders.

The black of the void swallowed their surroundings, and before Gowyn closed his eyes, he almost swore he saw the silhouette of something drifting in the ether.

Then came weightlessness, and through a dense silence they drifted, hearing the distant siren's call of beings unknowable to them, traversing an ocean of stars which folded at the behest of Ranni's strange language. A moment passed, and Godwyn felt Morgott tighten his grip on his brother's hand in a vice.

Another moment, and the force of gravity pulled their weightless and sluggish forms back to the floor with jarring force as they all landed in a heap.

Nightfall, the slim sliver of the moon illuminated the ashen city in its faint light.

In a flash of silver light and scattered stardust, the four had been dropped from the void, and onto the cold stone floor.

Ranni landed primly on her feet.

Morgott laid on his back, limbs and tail sprawled as he groaned at the intense headache pounding at his temples. Melina felt sick and stood braced against a pillar as she held her stomach, narrowly managing not to heave. Godwyn knelt, cold and numb for several moments before he spoke, "...We do not exit the way we came…are we all in agreement?"

"...This was the most expedient path, not the most pleasant," Ranni's tone turned apologetic.

"I know…yet I wouldn't undertake that method again unless we prove to be desperate." Godwyn muttered, peering up to the withered tree with furrowed brows, "...Ranni, what energy did you sense?"

"Not that of the tree. Tis truly dead, you think?" Ranni whispered, raising her hands to her mouth in awe at the sight.

Godwyn nodded, "...I think so."

As he took stock of their surroundings, the prince swore under his breath to recognize the crumbled pillars, and Morgott grimaced at the lingering stain of his blood upon the throne room floor. Melina was wide eyed, still feeling sick and exchanging a lingering look with the omen.

"...Princess, could thou have picked a more auspicious landing site?" Morgott whispered dryly, frowning at the stains of ichor he hadn't taken note of in his first visit to the arena.

"We are as close to Gideon as I could land us." Ranni sighed and strode forward to survey the gray landscape, "...This is not how I would have imagined revisiting Leyndell."

"It isn't much of a city to see these days beyond the palace being intact." Godwyn muttered, drawing his sword and approaching the stairwell.

What he saw made his breath hitch in alarm - and the men at the base of the steps were as inclined to reel at the sight.

Someone held this castle. With however many men Godwyn did not know, yet he could certainly guess as to who led them with the Omen Killer storming up the stairs.

Cleaver drawn, and bellowing out a roar of a war cry, the lumbering enemy rushed Godwyn as the prince bared his teeth and lunged. Morgott's face twisted in disgust and disdain, swearing at the absence of his sword as he outstretched his hand.

A sword fashioned of the waning light of grace materialized in Morgott's grip, long and wicked in shape to replace the weapon still laying in a vault somewhere in Raya Lucaria. Ranni wisely fell back, pairing with Melina who brandished her dagger in defense.

The omen killer was not the largest or most gruesome enemy Melina had seen, yet its singular zeal for combat, and increasingly erratic movements were something to behold. It lacked the precision and methodology of the Calvary Knights, who ran down and encircled their opponents as prey. No, the Omen Killer was a creature of torment and bloodlust, their shoulders drawn taught before its head was thrown back and sent a billowing plume of fire into the sky. The motion was sustained and drawn out, broken only when Godwyn lunged to drive his sword through its chest.

Lightning crackled and sparked, cleaving naught but air along godwyn's blade as the Omen killer danced aside, swinging its cleaver high overhead and bearing down on the prince. As steel met the curling horns that defined the saw-like edge of the cleaver, more footsteps and the clanking of armor could be heard.

That fire had been a signal flare. More troops were coming.

Discretion had long since been flung out the window.

Glory Through Violence

The Omen Killer charged Morgott, a predictable target who towered over the looming warrior as his sword caught against the serrated edge of the cleaver. Godwyn found himself occupied with the tarnished soldiers moving to assist their comrade, running one through and swiftly sidestepping the swing of another. Morgott's tail swept into the legs of the Omen Killer, enough to send the thing staggering as they reached for another herbal concoction from their apron.

Imbibing a potion, a plume of noxious fumes left the mask of the Omen Killer, shoulders shaking in a silent laugh as Morgott heaved, sick and his senses burning at the miasma it expelled from its maw. His strikes were shaken and went wide, giving the Omen Killer the room to advance on the omen, striking out at the Omen's crown of horns.

Melina had taken up the task of guarding Ranni, running interference as the witch summoned the chill and haunting visage of the dark moon. Unlike Rennala's luminous grace, Ranni's actively dimmed the air, frost began to flower over the stone tile and puffs of exhaled breaths became visible as the moon took shape.

Four arms outstretched and calling out, Ranni's voice commanded a frozen silence over the Arena. Soldiers held bleeding wounds and slowly backed away, the Omen Killer had narrowly missed clipping Morgott's horns, the man holding his sore scar from Lacero under the strain of lunging aside, hissing in pain and powering through the sickly haze. Morgott harshly cuffed the Omen Killer across the jaw, the force denting the bronze mask and forcing the thing to spit blood through the facsimile grin.

"Upon my name as Ranni the Witch, begone!" Stardust gathered at Ranni's fingertips, and the looming shadow of her moon spanned over the throne room.

The moon was hurled forward, honing in on the Omen Killer as the thing balked and finally was compelled to turn and flee as it held its bleeding face.

"I think not!" Morgott hissed and wrenched the enemy by the back of its bloodied apron, throwing it towards the looming celestial body. The moon swallowed the butcher in its silencing pull, gravity beckoned the Omen Killer into the orbiting mass, and when it dispelled into scattered stardust, it left nothing in its wake.

Cleaver, mask, and body, all were swallowed by its void, and Ranni's hands gently returned to their clasped position, her magical array dimming into nothingness. Godwyn and Melina ran the remaining Tarnished through before they could flee, allowing the throne room to once more fall silent. All eyes fell to Ranni, and Godwyn was the first who found the words to speak.

"...Thank you for dispatching them quickly."

Ranni gave a short nod, her eye gleaming with pride as she stepped forward, "Shall we go then, Ofnir will not sit idle for long in wake of such commotion?"

Sellen awoke in cold sweat, shaking and jerking upright as she tossed off the sheets. Temporal energy was a rare thing to channel - an art she thought only Rennala capable of executing.

The charged air was similar, yet not the refined and serene energy of the Lunar Queen. No, this aura was charged and focused as a knife, meant to cut and be expedient in its execution. The headmistress stormed down the hall as she straightened her nightdress, biting her lower lip in worry. The sight ahead of her made her pause.

Rennala, awake and calling out for her daughter, Blaidd trailed after her and resembled something akin to a lost puppy, the poor man. Both were as perplexed as Sellen by the burst of energy, and with looming dread the witch understood who their culprit was. Whatever business that had drawn Ranni to the village, she had cast a monumental feat of sorcery to cleave a portal.

Blue eyes met Sellen's dark brown, and Rennala spoke softly, "...Hast thou seen my daughter, Sellen?"

"...No. I'm afraid not, Rennala. I would have assumed her to be stargazing or in your company…" Sellen muttered, "You sensed it then - the spell she cast?"

"I did." Rennala murmured, "Its source resonated from the village…yet why?"

Sellen shook her head, "Follow me, and we shall find out?" she extended a hand, receiving a grunt from Blaidd in skepticism whilst Rennala gently shushed him, taking Sellen's hand.

"Please lead the way, archmage." Rennala nodded, quick to follow the witch.

Guards and restless academics were puzzled to see Sellen and Rennala awake at this hour, Lenore even begged the question when they departed through the gate house, marking an anomaly in her night watch's routine.

"...Majesty, Lady Sellen, what brings you out at this hour?" the captain stood, head tilted in concern and confusion. At her height, she almost stood eye to eye with Rennala, silver eyes meeting blue as the Queen surveyed the captain.

"I believe my daughter may be embroiled in another tangled web of affairs," Rennala confessed, "Twas not our intent to disturb thee."

"Its…its fine, I worry though if the two of you are investigating it directly?" Lenore stepped forward, "Allow me to escort you both?"

Sellen exchanged a look with Rennala, the pair shrugging before the witch spoke, "Yes, the help would be appreciated, even if this proves to be a trivial spell." Doubt clearly laced her tone then.

The three of them hurriedly rushed down the paths towards the energy's lingering trace, a path Sellen recognized with growing frustration. As they arrived at the cabin, Sellen slammed her fist into the door with a scowl, knowing by its dimmed state it would be bereft of any occupants.

By some divine comedy, Ranni had roped Morgott into this affair.

"Damnit," Sellen whispered, throwing open the door and grimacing at the complex array chalked into the floor. A dying hearth, and the lingering fusting of frost and ice told of what the Lunar Princess had done. She'd folded the void itself, a complex manipulation of time and space to create a portal. To what end, Sellen did not know, the destination itself lay in the glyphs and plotted coordinates mapped between the circle of moons and gemstones.

"Lenore, I want you to take your men and sweep the academy, find Godwyn. If Morgott was entangled in this mess, tis expected his brother would also be involved." Sellen ground out, fists clenched and dread building at the thought of a Demigod gone rogue. A wild card was never a safe variable.

Rennala stepped into the cabin, wringing her wrists as she whispered, "...Why would Ranni visit the home of an omen? Or conspire with Godwyn, knowing their history?"

"I don't know, Rennala." Sellen exhaled tightly, "Perhaps to reconcile…I did see her letters, Godwyn read his without dismissal or open condemnation. Thus, is it fair to assume she desires atonement?"

Rennala's stomach dropped then, her breath hitching, "...I helped her draft those letters, I thought it would be a tidy affair…not something of this magnitude?"

"...For all we know, the intent could be innocuous. They will be likely to return…and we never barred Morgott from leaving in the conditions for his release. No law or agreement was broken by them working together, I merely wish we knew to what end they were collaborating on." Sellen's fury began to cool, giving way to careful contemplation and attempting to soothe Rennala's growing worry.

"I fear not for their safety, yet for what she could do to clear her conscience, and how far that will spur her on to do something reckless." Rennala sighed. The silence grew heavy between the two, and Sellen moved to examine the array.

"..This is your area of expertise, Rennala - can you discern where Ranni dropped them?" Sellen pressed, holding her chin in thought.

With a slow nod, Rennala surveyed the coordinates and constellations, her eyes widening with a hitch in her breath.

"Leyndell." the queen whispered, "They've gone to Leyndell."

"...Gideon was occupying Altus with growing numbers." Sellen grimaced, "Godwyn, you impulsive fool."

Dinner according to General Radahn was a lively affair, consisting of wild game cooked over the fire, and pilfered wine from the Manor being consumed in great excess. Malenia fought to hide her smug smile at Rykard's irate mood, the man questioning Radahn with a deadpan look.

"Did you visit me for a family reunion, or to raid my cellar for every vintage sourced from Caelid?" Rykard grimaced, his eye twitching as Radahn popped off the cork of a bottle.

"I am a man of many priorities, brother. Sellian Vintages are all but non-existent now." The general countered, offering a bottle to Malenia who took it with a sly smile as Rykard threw up his hands, "You damn well could have asked at least!?"

Millicent nearly wheezed, swallowing her laughter with a long swig of wine once Malenia had drank her fill. The wine was a spiced and warm variety, heavy on the tongue and not quite like the meads and vodkas favored in Liurnia. Millicent recoiled at the potency of the flavor, muttering, "...Its good!"

Malenia patted her shoulder, "Pace yourself, Radahn is far from a light drinker when it comes to his taste in wines."

Millicent lightly swirled the bottle's contents, admiring the reddened hue which resembled the hair color of almost all the camp's occupants, "Why is it so different from the ciders Elia would drink?"

"It's fermented from a specific strain of grapes local to Sellia once, and cured in barrels with a variety of spices." Radahn informed, "I hope the land can be cultivated once again once the rot is purged from the province, it's a vintage unlike the overly sweet champagnes and moscatos of Altus."

"Father kept a decent selection apart from the stock the nobles preferred," Malenia mused, "Liurnian vodkas and Cranberry wine were particular novelties he enjoyed. I should have seen what Sellen stocked."

Millicent blinked, "Everyone has fairly distinct tastes in this family?"

"We do, you're a bit young to have ever drank before now I imagine?" Radahn questioned.

"Maybe, father never kept many luxuries in his home… and I can't recall if I was offered wine by the addled worshippers of rot." Millicent held her chin, "I never sampled it much until I came to travel with Elia. Even then, it was mostly vodka or cheap whiskeys for disinfectant."

"Practical, it'd be foolish to be wasted on the beaten path, knowing what stalks in the dark across the land." Malenia commented, gingerly plucking the wine from Millicent as she raised a brow at the girl's reddened cheeks, deeming that Millicent had imbibed enough and foisted over the waterskin.

Gideon held his scepter at the ready, a spell charged and his stride a hurried one as he was flanked by two perfumers and an omen killer led the head of their group. Apparently the Elden Lord had been quick to summon reinforcements, evidenced by the skirmish unfolding in the throne room.

It was time to retreat from Leyndell, if even one demigod was on the loose. His gut sank at the prospect of more having arrived, as multiple combatants had been reported when they slew an omen killer. Their path was clear, flee to the gates, and return to the central encampment in Altus.

Yet, Radagon and Elia had departed only mere hours before…and had laid waste to a city street to pry into the catacombs. Flee, or pursue the man and hold him to task in his ruse? Gideon shook his head, unwilling to let that question persist despite the gamble it would be for his life.

"...Take me to the chasm Radagon made." Gideon ordered, stiff and determined to confront the bastard himself, "Rally who remains, we're pursuing them both. Leave the empyrean alive, and fight with every ounce of strength you have to subdue the

Elden Lord and his consort. Anything less, and we will be dead men by morning."

The Taming of Fire

Melina had confronted Elia only once over the matter of the three fingers. Once had been enough to dissuade the woman from badgering an esoteric god of destruction, it was not worth the worry it had caused her companion, and thus Elia had left Shabriri and Hyetta to fester alone.

Flame had been a natural solution to the roots, yet only the red flame would be the method available without sundering the world as she knew it. Thus, the sacrifice commenced, and Elia turned away from the path Vyke had taken. To face the altar again, it was with a heavy heart that Elia eyed the doors before glancing to Radagon, "...Without Mohg's remembrance, how do we intend to seal off this place?"

Radagon skimmed his hand over the doors, brimming with heat and the seams flaring a molten red in warning. "...My wards secured Raya Lucaria and the Erdtree, hopefully they will buy us time."

"...We aren't entering, felling the fingers directly?" Elia furrowed her brow, "...Ranni was able to slay her two fingers, why can't these be felled?"

"Unless you still have that relic plucked from a Noxian crypt, we are shit out of luck." Radagon deadpanned, catching her by the shoulder, "Nor would I want that thing near you."

"A knife is the sole way to kill them?" she pressed.

Radagon paused, uncertain, "It is the one known method."

"...Let me try to kill it, or why not have the two of us make an attempt to try? Your hammer could break a divine relic, can it not damage the envoy of another god?" Elia pressed.

Radagon pinched his brow, "Shed your armor then."

"...Eh?" Elia blinked, "Beg your pardon?"

"The frenzied flame only allows those who submit their flesh to flame to approach." Radagon explained, "Unless you have second thoughts about this lunatic idea?"

Elia groaned into her hands, and Miquella took his cue to leave the altar and round the corner.

Best to let them debate this convoluted mess alone. Someone would have to shore up the wards they would need before a horde descended upon them.

Radagon crossed his arms, eyeing Elia intently, "Well? Do you have any better ideas than throwing yourself at the fingers with brute force?"

She glared, "We may not have another chance to return to Leyndell with the enemy we've made of Ofnir if killing him isn't on the table. Yes, I only have one idea, finish this now and cripple an outer god before that old codger is proven right in how vulnerable this age is!"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, "Understand I say this not from a place of doubt, but of genuine worry for what the Three Fingers could do if they burnished their print on you? Marika sealed this place, perhaps as another tool to foist off the outer will as the Giant's Flame had been, yet even she never faced the fingers directly."

Elia dipped her gaze with a weary exhale, "...We aren't an edifice as the Erdtree remains. Marika could afford to wait with a hellish god as one of many avenues out of her stagnant existence."

Radagon shook his head, "A notion I won't entertain. Hold the line with Miquella if you wish, I have a seal to forge." Striding past her, Radagon kept his eyes forward, and Elia pinched her brow.

"...You aren't wrong to be worried." Elia muttered.

"I know. Nor are you to be fearful of leaving the fingers alive. Yet your safety is more crucial than a tidy victory to me."

Ranni inspected the chasm's entrance with quiet awe, "...Tis my father's handiwork indeed."

Fissures had fragmented the cobblestone street, collapsing an entire section of the road and severely damaging the ruined homes framing in the street. Radagon had chosen the most expedient entrance into the catacombs…but for what?

Godwyn shook his head, "...Ofnir followed them, yet that begs the question, why are they in a derelict sewer?"

The loamy and stagnant scent of the tunnel was far from pleasant, reminiscent of a crypt to the prince as he descended into the catacombs. Morgott kept close to Godwyn, stooping low with a tense exhale, "...The shunning grounds are a barren place bereft of any grace or worth. I know not as to what your tarnished is doing down here."

Melina was the one to answer their morbid curiosity, "...The three fingers were sealed here. Yet I warned her, she shouldn't be wandering towards the frenzied flame…"

Godwyn's eyes widened, "You mean to tell me, the god of frenzy dwelled beneath us throughout the whole of the shattering?"

Melina's mismatched gaze bored into Godwyn, "Longer…much longer has the flame waited for proper kindling to engulf this land."

The silence was heavy as Morgott shook his head, "...Our mother's handiwork?" the Omen's gaze was heavy as he eyed Godwyn and Melina, expression somber.

Melina slowly nodded, "...I knew the power of flame since I was born. I can't say if she wanted the frenzied flame to consume the tree, yet it was always a risk and nearly came to fruition with Vyke."

Morgott grimaced, "My knights spent months hunting that tumor down until we could finally cast him into an evergaol."

Godwyn sighed, "We shouldn't dawdle, not with Ofnir terribly close to an outer god's emissary." Unsheathing his sword, he led the quartet down into the catacombs, his strides hurried and shoulders tensed. Ranni followed at the flank, her glass eye lingering on Melina in quiet scrutiny.

The golden hue of the maiden's eye had certainly been uncanny, and no longer seemed to be a coincidence.

With each strike of the hammer, red flame weeped through the seams of the doors, like fire burning within a kiln and straining to break free. With each strike, golden light began to take shape alongside the familiar crosshatched lines of Radagon's rune.

Crystalline and resembling amber, it glowed against the raging inferno.

Scraping and a discernible push against the doors made Radagon's breath hitch. Once this process began, there was no stopping it. The three fingers were awake, and its god insulted at the attempt to shackle its will. His hammer collided with stone in a steady rhythm, sweat beading down Radagon's brow as a fresh blaze of cinders washed over the room through the cracks.

Amber light bathed the chamber, spawning an unnatural warmth that was uncharacteristic of the Shunning Grounds and sewers of lower Leyndell. Temptation beckoned him to peer over his shoulder, to ensure Elia and Miquella were safe - yet to falter would set this chamber ablaze, and allow the Three Fingers an escape.

"May your labor be easier than mine, grackle," Radagon grimaced, wiping the sweat from his brow as he struck the doors once more.

Unseen, nails continued to scrape against stone, a sharp and brittle sound drawn out unnaturally over long and droning moments.

The swing of an Omenkiller's cleaver was halted by Miquella's rings of light sundering the weapon into pieces. The lumbering monster's head fell mere seconds later as the boy fell back behind Elia, yet another one of the brutes charged at her with a roar.

Elia rushed forward, glintstone blue energy dousing her swords as she struck them down into the floor with the force to command the comets she'd summoned to rain down on the remaining tarnished and Omen Killer. Ranging from the size of a pebble to that of a large boulder, the volley was punishing in force and deadly in its range.

Once the blue light dimmed, Elia grimaced at the carnage littering the hall. The group had descended with little warning, and shattered a half formed barrier before Miquella could properly consecrate the spell. They were an open front, and likely just the first wave of Gideon's miscreants.

Miquella gripped her shoulder as she knelt, muttering, "We can handle them. If you could keep pace with my father, you can send Ofnir back to the grave with my help."

Elia exhaled tightly, "Stay behind me, and if they get close, yell for me." she murmured, rising to her feet and brandishing her swords.

Miquella nodded, "I will."

They had only a few minutes of relative silence.

Gideon kept his distance as he surveyed the damage the two of them had done, "I see your skills haven't dulled."

"No. Now what are you here for, Ofnir?" Elia deadpanned, keeping between him and Miquella as the strikes of the hammer continued in the distance.

The man cocked his head to the side at the routine beating, "To see whatever you and your husband are meddling with. You were to leave the city, not make a ruin of its catacombs."

"We left as little more than a courtesy to avoid an open conflict with you. By what authority or might can you command Radagon or I?" Elia shook her head, "Walk away, is your pride truly worth gambling your life away?"

The old man leaned forward onto his scepter, hands interlaced and his gaze probing, "No. Yet I have questions, and if he will not answer them, then you will."

"I beg your pardon?" Elia grimaced, "In what world do I owe you-"

"Him." Gideon nodded to Miquella, "Boyana, you are a river that has run dry for information, that fact is not lost upon me."

His words only compelled Elia to level Excorio for his head, "You won't harass Miquella, and certainly don't deserve to after the bodycount you amassed to find him."

Miquella stepped forward and shook his head, sending Elia a warning look, "Can I not speak for myself? Slowly, the empyrean gripped Elia's wrist to lower the blade, and spoke in a softer tone, "What is it you wished to discuss with me, Sir Ofnir?"

There was a magnetism to words that flowed like honey, slow and deliberate, and a trap to an insect unfortunate enough to land in the sweetened tar that it was. The persuasive hook to Miquella's speech was subtle, yet Gideon spoke without venom or disdain, only awe laced his voice.

"The order that you sought out, would it have come to fruition had the Lord of Blood not stolen you?" Gideon asked, "It was a near complete thing, ready to take root even through the quagmire and war of the shattering."

"...If I hadn't been stolen, perhaps. Malenia is undaunted as a warrior, and has survived even death and defeat. I believe in her, she would have seen me through my metamorphosis." Miquella explained, patient and unhurried to keep Gideon talking as his remaining tarnished stood by in silence.

"The nature of your curse was a stranger one than even her rot, in my view. Hers was bestowed by a clear patron with an intent that has become gruesomely clear in the wastes of Caelid and Blooming Daughters of the Aeonia." Gideon commented, and Miquella paused, uncertainty clouding his facade.

"Just what are you asking me, sir?"

"What was the source of your affliction?" Gideon pressed, "Did another god meddle with you?"

Miquella crossed his arms tightly upon himself, "...My flesh was stagnant. Frozen and forever stunted. A true inversion of the onslaught of decay Malenia faced. No…I was burdened by the God of Rot, and hoped to find a cure in the transformative nature of the Aeonia once it was cleansed. Yet my needles were never complete."

Elia's eyes widened sharply, "...It may not have worked for a divine body, yet what of Caelid?"

Miquella shook his head, "I don't know. Unalloyed gold was a delicate structure capable of offering respite, yet never true security. Goldmask sooner solved that dilemma with his rune, yet never found the means to apply it."

"You still suffer the affliction then?" Gideon questioned, glancing between both.

"...I do." Miquella nodded, "Now. I have many questions for you, Ofnir." "Ask them, tis only fair." Gideon nodded.

"Why did you seek my medallion through violence?" Miquella grimaced, any notion of pleasantries gone.

Marika's voice was leaden in Radagon's ear.

"You truly do worry for her." she murmured, an unseen spectator as the last chains of his seal took shape.

"I worried for your own safety, when it was my task to do so." Radagon replied evenly, lowering the hammer as the heat within the room still persisted, and the doors continued to groan. It was fragile work, as liable to break as the chains that imprisoned the last of the giants. Time was an unyielding chisel, and it would flow quickly for the Three Fingers.

"Don't be coy and pretend I don't dwell inside your mind as an audience." Marika sighed, the weight heavy over Radagon's shoulders, "Don't lose this one, you never did cope well with heartbreak, a trait we both share."

"Is this your attempt to be supportive?" Radagon whispered.

"Yes, with immense effort too, might I add." Marika retorted, "How long will that seal last for?"

"...Months. No more than a year, even if it should remain undisturbed." he muttered, "Its agitated, and a foil to our two fingers."

"Two split parts of a god eating itself alive. We're very educated on that divine niche." Marika sighed and began to retreat, "...Remember, your daughter slew her own fingers, perhaps an answer lies with her." He almost felt her hands on his shoulders, and Marika spoke once more, "It's rotten work, fixing my messes."

"It truly is." Radagon grumbled.

"I pray it ends soon." Marika finally left him in the chilling embers of the altar, her tone almost apologetic.

Turning away from the doors, Radagon descended the steps with a sluggish and weary gait. He was far from peak condition to be thrust into the fight, but as always, his labors never ended with a goddess to account for.

Gideon's posture tensed, "The Albinuarics are an insular lot from their history of persecution. Latenna refused to cooperate, The rest were broken souls who wrought no answers for me. Our Tarnished had better luck as a kinder face for them to turn to. Did your heroism ever amount to much more than a handful of survivors from the village, Elia?"

Elia set her jaw, "It set Nepheli on a better path than serving you."

Gideon tightened his grip over the scepter, "...She holds Stormveil now." His tone turned hesitant for a moment, and Elia cocked her head then.

"Is that shocking to you?" She asked.

"Knowing her place as a daughter of Horah Loux, no." Gideon shook his head, "Yet to the matter at hand, what are you three hoping to accomplish in the catacombs?"

Radagon's tone was clipped and unhurried as he descended the steps, "I instructed you once to not harass my son , Ofnir."

Elia and Miquella sharply turned to face Radagon, the man covered in soot, ends of his hair singed, and sweat beading down his brow. Murder was in his eyes, and Gideon visibly stepped back.

The hammer still glowed a deep burning red from fighting back the flame, cracks running along the stone and the golden glow of runes seeping through the new fissures. It paled in comparison to the spear of lightning in Radagon's off hand.

With a subtle nod, Elia grabbed Miquella and leapt aside as the spear was thrown forward, crackling with deadly aim as it clashed against a scholar's shield.

The defensive spell pulsed and shattered under the strike, throwing Gideon back into the wall as he swore, and the tarnished scattered in an effort to flee. Radagon slowly staggered forward, and Elia was already on her feet, swords in hand and rushing the old man as his troops fled.

Despite his age, Gideon was above all else a knowledgeable man of the arcane and holy incantations, and even the feeble three rings of light he sent out were powerful enough to stagger Elia as two clashed with her swords, and another seared into her chestplate.

Yet her poise endured, and the man laboured for breath as gold blood marred her chest.

"...Just what heights has he elevated you too?" Gideon whispered, eyeing the three of them intently as he back stepped.

Elia advanced on the man with a grim expression, "He needed a companion in divinity, I was the nearest choice Radagon had to work with."

A bitter laugh left Gideon, "A Tarnished was never meant to become Elden Lord, we were never expected to slay gods, much less replace them."

"You didn't always believe that, not when you pursued Miquella in earnest or needled me for every ounce of information I held." Elia pressed, lunging to grip Gideon by the front of his tunic.

He didn't fight, knowing he sat in the jaws of a beast, and it was best to not provoke her now, "No. I had high hopes for our dwindling lot, if not I, perhaps you would defy the odds. Even that would be a greater fate than stagnation."

Elia blinked in surprise, knowing his disdain ran deeply for her. Yet his admission was a surprise that made her ask, "What happened to you, Gideon? What killed that ambition and drive you beat into us all at the round table?"

"Marika's design was nothing more than theatrical suicide. The stalemate of this land was pain, but a sustained thing we could muddle through all the same." Gideon rasped, "To confront a hysterical god and lose, what could you have unleashed if you failed to become Elden Lord, or had your runes been scattered and seized in another bid for power?"

"...I was the stronger will than my other half. Ofnir." Radagon spoke up the, "What you saw was true, but incomplete and impotent. Marika wouldn't have reared her head, not without slaying me or the Will of the Elden Ring itself. Even the greater will would see its relic change hands and endure than to be cast to the Frenzied Flame."

Gideon froze, and Elia could see his eyes widen in realization, "...Was that what brought you here, to cleanse that foul thing?"

Radagon nodded, weary and leaving Gideon in Elia's hands.

"...Marika isn't in a position to torment this land, or us. Leave, go to Nepheli, or find something better than gathering dust amongst parchment and a dying institution with the worst oppressors within the Golden Order." Elia dropped Gideon with a tired sigh, "Do not trouble my family or my country again. If another Albinuaric dies under your orders, I'll run you all down to the last soldier myself."

Gideon gruffly nodded, "...Understood."

He peered down the corridor his men had fled towards, finding it hard to fault them when he'd poorly judged the strength of his opponent. With a nod, the old man leaned into his scepter and took his leave. Slow and measured steps taking him forward into the darkness.

Elia exhaled softly in relief, hurriedly moving to Radagon's side as she took his face into her hands.

He was feverish to the touch, and he pressed his brow to hers as he muttered, "...Do you think he's pacified by knowing the truth?"

Elia tentatively nodded, "...He respects the exchange of knowledge, I don't expect him to make trouble for us without proper cause, not when he knows we could slay him and risk the consequences."

Radagon nodded, exhaling in relief, "Good. I didn't wish to return with news of a war."

Elia offered him her hand, "Likewise…and I don't want to be the one to eventually face Nepheli with the burden of having slain her father. Even in spite of the grief he's caused."

"...Can we leave this place sooner than later," Miquella murmured, "It can't be ideal to erect a portal here if we have the option of safely exiting the catacombs."

"Agreed." Radagon rose to his feet with a grund, draping an arm around Elia's shoulder and taking Miquella by the hand, "I think it's long overdue for us to be home for a proper respite."

Gideon was contemplative in his walk, tightly gripping his staff for support, and still in awe that he still lived. The further he walked, the closer he came to a glowing concentration or torchlight.

He perked up faintly, hoping he had found the tarnished that had fled the scene. Something wet splashed underfoot, before he stumbled over a soft mound.

He fell to his side with a grunt, and heard scattered footsteps approaching. In the light that accompanied the party, he saw the slain form of an Omen Killer. Gideon paled, and rushed to his feet, those who approached were not his men.

Sword in hand, the omen was the tallest of the lot, and Gideon recognized Melina's face with a hitch in his breath.

"Are you the leader of this rabble?" The blonde man spoke, stepping forward with those cold eyes, and a curious amount of venom lacing his tone.

"...I am. Who are you to have come into conflict with my men, stranger?" Gideon asked, curt and to the point.

"Give me your name, and I'll give you mine." He gruffly retorted.

"Gideon Ofnir, now who are you to have a false maiden, and Margit the Fell in your company?"

"Godwyn." There was no need for an epithet or explanation, only chilling horror for Gideon to rake his eyes over the man, and despite the deathly pallor, to recognize the overlapping features he shared with Miquella.

Gideon's heart stopped, and Godwyn unsheathed his sword with a deepening frown, "I pray you have a fitting explanation for employing the services of Omen Killers, or slaying the Albinaurics, Ofnir."

"A demigod claims to care for those his Divine Mother shunned?"

"I would be a horrid brother to not care for those I share a community with, and blood in the case of the omens."

Gideon furrowed his brow, "...Pray tell, how does the golden child share blood with the most reviled denizens of this land?"

"By having birthed us omens." Morgott grimaced, "I expected more of the All knowing to understand his enemies and histories.

Truly, thou art a hack who could not tread into this city until I was slain."

Gideon's stomach dropped, "An omen ruled Leyndell," he whispered in realization, and the golden eye Morgott possessed made that realization undeniable.

"Again I will ask you Ofnir, explain yourself and your piss poor choice of combatants."

Divine Right

Gideon knew not to waste his breath on bargaining. He jabbed his scepter down into the tile with a hissing exhale, and a pulse of blue light resonated from the strike. The Carian Phalanx took form, crystalline and honed to a deadly point, and lunged out towards the four demigods.

Godwyn and Morgott were quick to jump aside, and the spell collided against Ranni's shield to dissipate into fractured crystals and flecks of light. Melina dashed out from behind the witch, knife drawn and rushing Gideon directly. The old man caught the blade against the staff of his scepter, gnashing his teeth as he ground out, "I thought you to be no more than kindling for the fire!

What brought you back to side with them?"

Melina's eyes flashed at the mention of her death, and with the twist of her blade, she jabbed the hilt of her knife harshly into his stomach, "Grace wrested me from death, and they offered an accord." She glanced at Morgott with a quiet sigh, as if still in disbelief at her situation.

"Your spite nearly cost my friend her life, denied her shelter, and only spelled out grief for countless others. Why should I not indulge in an attempt on your life, Ofnir? When have you ever been a salvation for the Tarnished in a method that was not to serve your own ends?"

Gideon shook his head with a bitter laugh, "You're seeking justice for the woman that let me walk away alive?" Melina visibly faltered, "...she's here, in the city?"

"In these catacombs, girl, now unhand me and press her on the matter of gutting me?" Gideon grimaced, holding his abdomen as he staggered back. Godwyn sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, realizing then they were on borrowed time.

Morgott fell in step with his brother, rushing Gideon from the flank and sweeping the man with his tail. Godwyn maneuvered past Melina, and the maiden could barely blink before the spray of blood marred her tunic, and the wet and rasping cough of gideon broke her from her stupor. Through Gideon's sternum, Godwyn's longsword had punched through with effortless grace, pinning the man to the cobblestone as he lay in the pooling mass of his own blood.

His helmet had fallen aside, baring an old and weathered face that had seen too many years from beyond the grave, intelligent and cold eyes rimmed with red glaring at his assailants with what strength he still had. Death did not surprise Gideon, he knew in his bones he would one day fail to rise from the ashes his form would become. Perhaps today was that day.

"...In killing me, what do you accomplish, boy?" Gideon found clarity in those waning moments, "Will my encampment dissipate, do you think my men to be so foolish as to not suspect foul play from Liurnia, or the Elden Lord I spoke with only hours before? Even he had the wisdom to not indulge his rage." Gideon shook his head as he felt the impending coldness, his words slowing,"..You? W-What a mess y…you've made for yourself… a.. and your ilk."

Melina tightly wrapped her arms around herself, exhaling sharply as she refused to meet Godwyn's eyes, "What have we done?" she whispered.

"Stop." Ranni gripped Melina's shoulders, cold porcelain hands exuding surprising care as she murmured, "We cannot undo this, nor is he a man absolved of his transgressions even had Elia truthfully spared him. Breathe, we are not feeble, nor are we virgins to the notion of war." Lightly, the witch shook Melina's shoulders, "Liurnia will survive this, we will all survive this."

Godwyn's shoulders slumped, "...A scattered and chaotic army will be picked off in clusters rather than in cohesive units. All the same, they will die, and I will answer for killing him should Radagon take issue with the matter."

Morgott tensed, "As will I, this was not a plan concocted by thee alone-"

"You were on the chopping block hardly more than a month ago, absolutely not!" Godwyn interjected, jaw set and shaking his head, "A shit man deserved to die. If Radagon cannot see that, then he's a fool."

"...Remember, Elia spared him." Ranni reminded, "If Gideon's parting words were to be considered at face value."

Godwyn froze, pressing his hand to his face with a tired sigh, "...I want to know her reasons then, and pray she was being pragmatic rather than being soft."

An Elden Lord was much easier to condemn…a friend less so. Stars help him, he hoped he was prepared for the argument ahead that loomed. Elia's judgment of Radagon had been scathing in moments of conflict, even amidst brewing affections and camaraderie. Even the goodwill he earned for protecting Fia would only carry him so far to avoid the woman's fury.

Radagon leaned heavily into Elia, relying on her to guide them back through the catacombs as they walked. He smelled heavily of flame, and still carried a feverish warmth against Elia's skin.

It was her voice that broke the silence, "..You sealed the fingers, for how long?"

He rasped, his throat parched and lips dry , "Half a year at least. They've been prodded and agitated now. Once that seal breaks, it'll seek out a champion in earnest."

Miquella gripped his father's arm tightly, "...The frenzy flame induces madness and destruction, hoping to reform the cosmos into a singular entity?"

"As far as Marika and I understood it, yes." he nodded, "I wouldn't risk it leaving a mark upon any of us, even with the gift of unalloyed gold."

Miquella shook his head, "It wasn't refined enough to quell rot, the flame would be another beast entirely. Possible, but not easily done."

"I'm holding out hope for Ranni still possessing that knife…or consulting my uncle and his resources in Nokron…it was once the seat of destined death, yes?"

"Until Maliketh's time as its bearer, yes." Radagon nodded, "Godwyn may be of some help in this matter, given what his rebirth has made him into. The cool waters of death snuff out all inevitably, if not through Rykard's stomach or Ranni's tools."

Elia relented with a sigh, "...And I see now why you preferred to seal that thing and consult our options."

"Do you mean to tell me I was right?" Radagon's smile turned smug, and despite his weariness, pride welled in his chest then.

Staring sidelong at him, Elia's face reddened and she muttered, "Yes. You were right."

Her breath hitched faintly when his lips brushed her cheek, "Thank you, grackle."

"You're welc-" Elia would have returned the gesture, but her eyes caught a glimpse of light ahead, a few forms silhouetted against the torchlight, "...That couldn't be Gideon…could it?"

Radagon frowned, "He departed alone and his men fled…"

Miquella squinted into the light, and he paled at the faint sight of horns which could only be attributed to an omen. He tightened his grip on Radagon's arm, muttering, "It isn't an omen killer."

Elia froze, "...We didn't find the omens on our route here - what the hell drew them out into the shunning grounds?"

"I don't know. Miquella, stay to the flank, we'll handle it." Radagon murmured in an effort to help calm the boy's worries.

The closer the approached, the more Elia and Radagon could discern, and when she finally recognized the two horns Radagon had clipped in their battle, Elia called out, "Morgott?"

"Shite." the omen's curse echoed.

The swear only confirmed her suspicions, and then she caught sight of Ranni's large hat, Godwyn's pale locks, and…Melina.

Yet at their feet laid the prone and bleeding form of an old man's who's face she never imagined seeing in the flesh.

Gideon lay dead on the floor, still run through by Godwyn's sword.

Radagon shook his head, a scowl deepening as he glared at the group, "We leave you lot alone, and you plot an unsanctioned assassination?"

Reflexively, Elia rushed over to tug the maiden into a tight embrace, jarring Radagon enough to halt his brewing lecture as he studied the two. Melina tightly clutched Elia around the waist, her face buried in her taller friend's shoulder. They needed few words to convey relief and awe, and Elia hardly seemed poised to impart her judgment as emotions ran high and she held what Radagon assumed was a dear friend.

Quietly, he asked, "...Who is this, Elia?"

"Melina…my maiden." she answered, muffled and her voice thick.

His stomach dropped. The sacrifice she had cast to the giant's flame. Perhaps her most crucial companion in her journey to mend the Elden Ring. He averted his eyes, keen to grant them some illusion of space as he faced the rest of the group that stood guilty of Gideon's murder.

The sight of Ranni made Radagon give pause, and the man stared, "...Daughter."

Ranni wrung her wrists, wide eyed and muttering, "Yes, father?"

"Pray tell, how did you entangle yourself in a plot with Godwyn, of all people?!"

"...I wished to offer restitution for past transgressions." Ranni dipped her head, not meeting Radagon's eyes as the man stepped forward.

"Atonement through murder is hardly a wise course of action, did your mother know of this? Surely she would have intervened even in my absence." Radagon sent a withering glare to the brothers then, "Out with it, how did you pitch this lunacy to my daughter as a sensible plan? Do you begin to understand what you've cost us with Ofnir's men?"

"It was my idea, old man." Godwyn ground out raising his hand to call Radagon's attention upon him, "She merely volunteered after knocking at my brother's door. She wanted to help, that's all. I wanted Ofnir dead when he'd killed countless of Lenore's kinsman and abetted the terrorists that codified torment and abuse of the omen into a profession. He deserved death."

"Boy, I do not dispute that fact. Yet to kill a man on a battlefield holds more legitimacy than to gut him in a sewer! Did Marika teach you nothing of politics nor diplomacy, or are you Godfrey's wrath reborn without the temperance of Serosh?" Radagon's voice was raw and his tone livid, and for once, Miquella didn't move to stop him as he advanced on the prince.

Morgott would have interjected, but Godwyn shook his head and Radagon sent the omen a murderous look.

"Don't speak as if you knew him so intimately as mother, even in spite of your entwined nature." Godwyn grimaced, "...Ofnir claimed that it was Elia who let him walk. Is that true?" The venom faded from Godwyn's tone, imploring now rather than accusatory. Elia slowly withdrew from Melina, and slowly nodded.

Radagon tensed, "It was her judgment to make when she fended him off. Yes. I don't care for him…I didn't. Yet it was not worth the fallout simply to end him here, or to negotiate a surrender through legitimate means."

"Legitimacy - he operates with a roaming warband whilst we reside in a community that has defied the odds to survive. We are not the same, and his methods and the ideology of his allies deserves to die!" Godwyn shook his head.

Elia stepped in before Radagon's patience could finally break. Standing between them, she spoke quickly, "...I didn't want the blood of Nepheli's father on my hands, that was one factor that made me keen to have him talk, and to explain his methods.

He… He didn't manage to do much harm once Miquella and I had him talking, and knowledge was what he sought out." Godwyn sighed, "And what did he wish to know?"

"...He questioned Miquella's order and his curse, he was the demigod that Gideon had hoped to find alive I think…" Elia explained, "I told him to abandon his alliance with the Perfumers…to either find Nepheli or pursue another cause than simply amassing strength and stability through brute force."

"Given his track record, how was that viable? To take a known murderer at his word?" Godwyn hissed, "I understand you have a goal to not be a war monger, yet some men truly are tumors to be ground under heel before they metastasize."

"You could have made your case to me before you did the deed, when we still had terms of engagement and order to our dialogue. Did Gideon attack our home in my absence, did Sellen not seem capable of handling this matter in the interim?" Elia retorted, "You undermined me, and that alone has cost men their lives in the most draconian of monarchies."

She shook her head, "I am not Marika, I don't want your blood on my hands, I don't want to raze hundreds of lives with the stroke of a quill. With what you've done, we will be killing hundreds in waves by spring, because this is war, and word will get out between the Tarnished that fled the scene. Leaving Gideon alive assured us of one thing at least. We would meet an army, a united force helmed by a man I understand and could plan around. Your desire for expedient justice cost us that opportunity."

Her words were slow, methodical, and even with her intent and disappointment. Godwyn stood stock still, his words dying in his throat as her gaze burned into his skin.

"So tell me, how do you hope to fix this, Godwyn?" Elia leaned in, her voice like ice needling into already cold skin.

Swallowing hard, Godwyn held her stare as he forced out, "...I begin drafting battle plans, and wage a war as my father taught me since infancy."

"Good, and the next time you have the idea to plot an assassination, tell me first." Elia turned on her heel, and gently clasped Melina's shoulder to coax the maiden to follow her.

The others needed little prompting, keen to vacate the scene as the silence hung heavy over them all.

Rumination

Morgott was the first to break the silence, his gaze fixed on Elia when he asked, "What circumstances brought thee to Leyndell? Was thy journey not to Mount Gelmir and then to return?"

Still tense, Elia sent him an even look, "In some part it was due to you, actually." When the omen cocked his head, Elia sighed, "I reclaimed my mother's memento."

"Ah." Morgott winced, "Thou could have asked for it to be retrieved-"

"Given how our last exchange went, no. I was happier to settle this myself." Elia shook her head, "You don't need to stumble to ingratiate yourself, a deal was a deal, and you've abided by it."

Ranni studied Morgott intently then, "How didst thee come into possession-"

"A story for another time." Elia cut the question short, "We fought, and he sought out a piece of leverage, as one does in conflict."

Morgott almost felt thankful, and could feel Ranni's gaze on him for the long moments that followed. Radagon chose to speak up then, knowing it would do well to explain what had happened thus far in their journey.

"Gideon had intercepted us within the city, hoping to speak directly with me as one leader to another." Radagon began, "We narrowly held a civil discussion, yet things came to a head with his curiosity in Miquella… from there we hoped to leave quickly before tensions boiled over."

"And the catacombs, why was thee in the sewers if you were intending to leave?" Ranni pressed, lacing her hands together in growing curiosity as she cocked her head to the side.

"...The three fingers reside there, sealed for the moment, but a cloying emissary that will seek out a champion for the Frenzied Flame." Radagon sighed, "Morgott would know more of Vyke than I would, you directly handled him whereas I only saw mutterings and visions in my hibernation."

Morgott pressed his hands to his face with a grimace, "That I did, he was the greatest of the Tarnished to come close to the seat of glory. Then he choked. Buckled at the prospect of burning a maiden he loved more than the thought of victory," Disdain dripped from his words as Morgott continued, "The man festered and lost his mind. His rampage killed hundreds and sundered the few surviving communities that had persisted despite the Shattering. The Knights Cavalry only came to be in an effort to hunt him down…and to prevent any Tarnished from assaulting Leyndell and the land again."

Elia paled at the recollection, "...Is that how you coined your favored term, the flame of ambition?"

Slowly, Morgott nodded, "Vyke made an impression that would last, yes. Yet never did I realize that his fall from grace was cemented beneath my own city. Those fingers still endure, how do we intend to deal with them?"

"...I don't know." Elia muttered, "Radagon crafted the seal, now we pursue the options we know of, or scour for another answer.

Ranni had one established method for killing the fingers…her blade could be of use again."

The witch peered at Elia in quiet surprise, "I possess it still. Take it if thou wishes."

"Thank you," Elia murmured, "Was it a straightforward process once I retrieved it from Nokron for you? You were bloodied and the fingers were a gnarled and eviscerated mass of flesh when I found you."

Ranni's eye closed, the doll sighing, "T'was a gruesome labor, yes."

The blade was a potent and cursed thing - more profoundly hexed than the swords that had guarded Rennala through three wars and then ensured the safety of the queen's children. Artifacts from Nokron were as esoteric and foreign as Knossian spells in her eyes, yet with no shortage of wonder and use.

When the time came, her fingers did not die quietly. They channeled extant and forgotten grace as emissaries, writhing and signing spells that Ranni recognized from her father's defunct order. Rings of Light lashed out in an effort to slay the defiant empyrean. Her body did not bleed, but it was no fortress, she almost lost an arm as a ring grazed the rope binding and porcelain cracked under the sharp heat. A pity, it would be a pain to mend, and age had already eroded the shell of her once pristine form.

Tendons snapped, and the knife's jab into a knuckle staggered the motions of the index finger, the incomplete hand curling in upon itself in a feeble defense. The golden rings began to dissipate, going wide and scattering into motes of light as Ranni stabbed harshly into the palm of the hand.

It was a routine and monotonous labor, the fury behind her strikes was potent initially. Yet each strike wouldn't kill Marika, nor would it heal Rennala's broken nature. No amount of cuts, blood, or spilled rage would restore her father to the simpler peace of domesticity.

Blood and fury would not fix the world, not yet, and not alone. Ranni slumped against the prone and trembling hand, eyeing the knife in her hands with a quiet sigh, "...I pray this will have all been worth it, that none suffer under thine chokehold again.

Perish." she whispered with the final stab of the knife into the hand.

Those oaken fingers went limp, and Ranni leaned the hand as the only perch available for her to rest against.

"...When we return to Liurnia, I will return the knife to thee." Ranni nodded, recalling where she had left the weapon within her Tower. Stowed away within a chest, it had done little more than gather dust as a macabre memento.

They began to see sunlight that spilled through the gaping chasm Radagon made, finally they would be leaving the dour citadel and its hellish catacombs behind. Morgott was the first to climb out from the tunnel, offering a hand to his brother.

Still dour and silent, Godwyn had become contemplative in the final stretch of their march, Elia's words weighing heavily on his mind. With few words to speak, Elia had let him be since her initial confrontation. The prince had expected to feel some manner of vindication, now he only felt the weight of what would be a bloody spring. It was a glaring cost of his plot, and a price they all would be burdened with.

His father would have shouted and the blistering words would be taken in silence, Marika would have scowled at the mess, dismissed him from court for a number of days. Escape was an easy feat with Fortissax.

There were no strings to pull, and he couldn't run from Fia or Elia, nor did he desire to do so. Morgott needed him…and Godwyn needed any family of his that still lived. Radahn and Morgott alone brought a peace of mind that even the soft assurance of a lover couldn't bring. As he stepped into the light, he took a lingering look at the withered Erdtree, and hoped he hadn't set fire to the tentative age that would succeed it.

In the corner of his eye, Godwyn glimpsed Radagon climbing out of the catacombs, leaning into Elia as the woman pulled him up with surprising strength. Then, Miquella was effortlessly hoisted onto her shoulders with little prompting, the image making Godwyn give a double take as he muttered, "When did you two bury the hatchet?"

Miquella blinked, sharply turning to face his brother with a sheepish look, "...We bonded." Elia wordlessly nodded, gingerly holding the boy's legs to keep him stable atop her shoulders. It was a casual and terribly domestic gesture, and Godwyn felt his throat tighten.

Marika hadn't been so readily affectionate with the later children she reared, a disparity that hadn't been so starkly presented until now as Godwyn witnessed Elia take the boy under her wing. When Radagon joined her side, the image they resembled was undeniable. A family.

Elia had eased into motherhood as she did a crown.

Sellen would be awake well into the morning hours, tense and in furious debate with Rennala as Lenore nursed a cup of wine, watching the mages go at it with a long suffering sigh.

"Your daughter was the crux of this harebrained scheme. Why did you not think to supervise her?!" Sellen hissed, eyes narrowed and a vein close to bursting upon her brow,

Rennala laced her hands together, exhaling tightly as she spoke, her voice like ice, "Ranni is a woman grown, with intentions and designs of her own. I am her mother, not her jailor. Neither of us are to blame for this mess, Sellen!"

The mage faltered, "...What do you suggest we do? Can we not pursue them before it's too late?"

Rennala shook her head, "We have accounted for a missing Omen, a Prince, and my daughter. Sir Ofnir is only counting worms by now if we are to trust in their prowess, which I do. Ranni is as formidable a sorceress as I, Godwyn possesses the strength of his father, Morgott nearly felled Elia in combat. They will do many things, Sellen, yet they will not fail in this endeavor."

"Thus, we simply wait for them to waltz back in with Gideon's head on a pike?" Sellen threw her hands up into the air with a huff, "We'd be naught but lame ducks to do nothing!"

" I know!" Rennala shouted, "Do not think me to be slothful in these circumstances, yet what good would it do to storm Leyndell when we can anticipate them to return sooner rather than later? Do you wish for us to be gone, running about as aimlessly as headless hens, and your pupil to find the academy in disarray simply because we were left to our own devices for a fortnight?"

Sellen balked, having stomached more than her fair share of humiliating revelations at the hand of her student, "...No. I don't wish to instill that level of fear or doubt in Elia."

Rennala pointedly pushed a bottle and glass into Sellen's hands, "Then sit, and let us discuss what we can properly do in the interim. Thou are not a fool, only a craven and consumed by ambition."

Sellen snorted then, taking the bottle and muttering, "The moon will fall when you find it in your heart to compliment me without an underhanded insult."

"Then may it hang higher than the stars." Rennala replied in kind.

Lenore spoke up then, her glass already half empty, "I have my guards doubling their patrols, I recommend you erect those walls with haste. Ofnir had an encampment spanning at least four acres," she gave the women a moment to process that scale, and sighed at their lingering silence, "That may not be the dramatic scale of Radahn's Redmane Hordes or Malenia's Cleanrot Knights, yet a force in the hundreds is not something I want to face without high walls, mounted artillery, and supply lines from our outlying neighbors. My village fell in part due to how exposed and alone we were to a force of only a dozen men and an Omen Killer."

Lenore's expression darkened, remembering the sound of Lobo's cry when the wolf had been felled under the crushing blow of a cleaver, or how Albus' mind shattered in the face of death. She didn't wish to see another village burn, "He has hundreds to command who will want vengeance, get those walls up, and I'll shore up my men for the inevitable."

Sellen grimly nodded, "...Then we rouse the students, and finish the repairs to the gate house as soon as possible." Much to her chagrin, Sellen wished she had Radagon at her disposal at present.

They certainly needed a general now.

Love and War

Chapter Notes

I live, the plague throttled my house.

Portals were never a smooth path to take.

Expedient and unrivaled, but nearly every trip had made Elia want to wretch, and this time that compulsion won out. Miquella's delicate hands held her hair away from her face, and Radagon held Elia by the shoulders despite being quite pale himself.

Had Morgott not seen double, and slumped against the floor with a low groan, he might have made a disdainful comment about the mess. None of them had the energy to care now, merely winded and recuperating from the second trip Ranni had subjected them to. Melina, the poor thing, was all but unconscious when she stumbled out with the party. Godwyn's head was between his knees, the dull throb of his headache slowly fading as he focused on the scene before him.

Radagon locked eyes with the prince, stern and silent as the dead as he flicked his eyes over the humble cabin, "...Whose residence is this?"

"T-Tis mine, Elden Lord. Forgive the lack of refinement." Morgott muttered, having never expected to bring Radagon or his little family into his home and keen to have them gone as soon as possible. Elia's current state forced him to pause however, his eye narrowing, "What ails her?"

Radagon frowned, and furrowed his brow, "Nothing, she wasn't sick in our time on the road or at Volcano Manor." Lightly, his palm clapped Elia's cheek to coax her awake, the woman groaning as she turned her face into his shoulder. "Grackle, are you alright?"

"I… I'm fine, it was a rougher trip and a long day preceded it." Elia dismissed, wiping her mouth and grimacing the lingering burn of bile in her throat. The mess at her feet made her sigh and she sent an apologetic look towards Morgott, "I'm sorry for the mess."

The omen shook his head in dismissal, "Go home and let thy husband tend to thy ills."

Elia was hesitant, looking to Melina and taking a few unsteady steps towards the maiden, "...She's in worse shape than I," Radagon lunged to catch her teetering form as Miquella snatched her hand to keep her steady on her feet.

Godwyn spoke up then, "Leave her to me, she'll be safe with us."

The look of doubt on Elia's face was hard to ignore as she eyed Morgott, and the omen snapped in an instant, "Of all the things I am, I do not knowingly harm my kin, Tarnished!"

No one uttered a word. Radagon's eyes were wide as his eyes flicked from Godwyn to Melina's prone form. Honey hued locks, sporting the same nose as Malenia and Miquella, and an undeniably gold eye graced the girl when she had been conscious. The features were too uncanny to be dismissed, Radagon realized as Godwyn collected the maiden into his arms, "I can explain-"

"Oh, you both will." Radagon ground out before bracing an arm around Elia's shoulders, "We take this one crisis at a time Elia, you need rest. I imagine Sellen will have plenty of questions for us all in short order."

Melina was given Morgott's cot to rest in, and the brothers waiting out the inevitable once Radagon abandoned them to their fate. To her credit, Ranni stayed, seated on a stool and watching the fire with solemn focus.

"...How many children did Marika truly sire?" She asked, her blue eye raking over Melina's delicate features and frowning at how much of her stepmother could be seen. Younger, waifish, and not bearing the countenance of a queen that had ruined the world.

Godwyn shook his head, "...there was a time I would have confidently boasted to know my mother better than anyone beyond

Godfrey. I know better now, and I know little of what Marika did to conceive the children she hid from the public eye. Morgott and

Mohg were only the skeletons I was aware of…and Melina is another matter entirely."

"She lays no claim to glory, and was naught else but kindling for the fire," Morgott commented, "A vastly different role from the twins, Radahn, or thyself, Ranni."

"Father was ignorant of her existence, one can suspect he did not play a hand in siring her." Ranni muttered, holding herself tightly as the nuances of her family tree only became more muddled by the minute.

" We can hypothesize until the sun rises, or we can brace for Sellen. I choose the latter." Godwyn held Ranni's shoulder, "We have another sibling, I consider that a net positive despite our circumstances."

"Despite what we've done, to each other and to the world?" Ranni questioned, hands tightly clasped as she finally peered up at Godwyn.

"Yes, even then." he nodded, "...Regardless of the consequences, thank you for helping me slay Ofnir."

"He was a wretch, t'was worth the effort to see that he wouldn't trouble us further." Ranni agreed.

Thud.

Sellen's knock was less of a courtesy and more so a warning. With little preamble, the woman threw open the door, staff in hand and fury burning in her eyes as she eyed the three demigods.

Morgott pointedly looked away into the middle distance, Ranni was silent as the dead, and Godwyn awkwardly cleared his throat.

He would speak for them.

"Sellen, I can explain."

"Please do." the headmistress crossed her arms, and beckoned for Godwyn to walk with her, "I take it this was your scheme, Godwyn?"

"I claim full responsibility. It was my vendetta that led to tonight." He confessed.

"...I saw Radagon with Elia in tow." Sellen muttered, "How did they come to be involved?"

"Our paths unintentionally met in Leyndell..and they seemed to have held a dialogue with Gideon." Godwyn nodded as he stepped out into the quiet streets with her, "...I ask that you spare my brother and sister your ire. They offered to assist me, and I did little to dissuade them."

"I expect your labor to finish what you've started," Sellen sighed, "I am no tyrant Godwyn, nor has Morgott broken any explicit terms of his release. We simply never anticipated… this. " Godwyn winced and followed Sellen in stern silence.

When Elia's form met the mattress, she went limp in exhaustion. Radagon frowned as he released her, perplexed and worried to see her so fatigued. His palm left her brow when he couldn't feel any sign of a fever, and he could do little else but let her sleep.

It was Miquella who broke the silence, lingering near Radagon's side as he murmured, "...She hasn't been this ill since Morgott attacked her."

Radagon nodded in agreement, "I know…she wasn't sick despite wading through sewage to get into the manor either." "There was the morning she was exhausted." Miquella noted.

Radagon went quiet, choosing his words carefully, "She wasn't sick, merely overextended."

The boy sighed, climbing up into the sheets and settling in by Elia's side as he tugged on Radagon's sleeve, "I'm tired."

"You haven't asked to sleep in my bed in centuries." Radagon muttered, leaving ample space for Elia and Miquella as he joined them.

The empyrean was situated between Elia and Radagon, weary and lightly holding Elia's sleeve, "...It's harder to sleep alone since I emerged from my cocoon. Having Malenia or Godwyn nearby helped… but the nightmares still persist."

"Miquella, why did you say nothing until now?" Radagon pressed, arms crossed and studying his son with a weary expression.

"...Pride mostly, and knowing you had your hands full with Elia at the time. It made it easier to loathe her then with how she divided your time and attention." Miquella sighed, "I don't enjoy still feeling as helpless as a child, or…giving Mohg more vindication in having left his mark, even in death."

"You're no longer stagnant…and the trappings of childhood shouldn't bring you shame." Radagon countered.

"Says the voice of the person who could become a man and take his place in the world!" Miquella snapped, "Do you understand the frustration of being caged by your own body, seeing your other half fester and rot when in another life she would have been the best of us all?"

"...I sympathize with that plight more than you know." Radagon tentatively reached to hold Miquella by the shoulder, the boy flinching and shying back.

"Talk…I don't want to be embraced, I just want clarity." Miquella muttered, not meeting Radagon's gaze.

"I was fully formed into adulthood, an impression and grafting of Marika's flesh and bone to compliment her needs and persona."

Radagon confessed, "...War was my childhood and adolescence, and truthfully I never felt independence until I married Rennala. I won't mistake your circumstances as anything less than a hell of unparalleled design and a cruel iteration of immortality, but I understand what it is to feel like a fragment of what I should have been."

Miquella shrank in upon himself, uttering a quiet, "Oh."

"...Is this still a subject you don't want to discuss with me?" Radagon asked.

"I don't discuss it with much of anyone." Miquella muttered, "Malenia would fret and Godwyn would feel guilty or out of his depth.

Radahn and Rykard…no. Absolutely not."

Radagon's gaze flicked to Elia, and studied how Miquella still held her arm, "Yet you've confided in Elia?"

The boy nodded, "...It's easier to be frank with a fresh observer, she doesn't exactly idolize us or the days of the order. I can confide in things that won't make her paranoid or guilty. I'm looked after without being coddled, it's…it's different."

Radagon exhaled tightly, "There were many things I failed to do for you as a father, that she's poised to do as a mother?"

That word made Miquella cringe, but he did not deny it, "Things Marika could have done, that wouldn't be Elia's problem."

"You are not a problem, Miquella." Radagon gingerly clasped his son's hand, "Neither Elia nor I see you as such. Love is a labor worth undertaking."

"…Alright." Miquella acquiesced, slumping back into the pillows with a long suffering sigh.

Radagon tugged the blankets over them both, exhaling softly as he muttered, "Goodnight, and sleep well." Miquella ducked his face into Radagon's shoulder, falling asleep quickly as the mage lights began to dim.

Thicker than Water

Marika winced when Radagon stalked towards her, "...Take a seat before you begin a sanctimonious rant."

"I should not be learning that you sired another daughter centuries after the fact." Radagon implored, "...Why was she born to be a sacrifice?"

The goddess looked aside, her hands carefully laced together, "...You were my other half and broadened my capacity to wage war in the name of the order. After Nokron, do you think I simply used the knowledge I gleaned from the Nox only to create you?"

His throat tightened, and Radagon slowly took a seat, "Enlighten me, why was Elia's maiden crafted to be a lamb to slaughter when the time came?"

"The divine possess a half life, Malenia and Miquella both endured despite rot and corruption of the blood - Ranni herself is an enduring testament to the art of preserving a soul." Marika explained, "Why should an empyrean who wielded destined death be an exception to this trend? I took her flesh, and grafted my own with it to create what at the time was a failed heir…but a brilliant tool."

"...And now she lives." Radagon reminded, "Tell me, why should I be endeared to your side of this narrative, yet another child was abandoned and bid to die as most of the demigods were?"

"I don't expect your approval or love." Marika coldly replied, "I crafted a tool to do its job as you forged the Elden Ring into your bride. Our sentiments may change, yet we did the things that we did out of a perceived necessity."

Radagon sighed, unwilling to dispute that fact, "Then what happens to her now, a child that survived your plans for her?"

"I don't know." Marika confessed, "...I'm not so cold as to kill the girl twice. She did her duty well, and your bride seems terribly fond of her. Her fate is in her hands, or your own if you feel any paternalistic instinct in this mess?" "I have my hands full with Godwyn's mess and raising my son." Radagon shook his head.

"He truly does take after Godfrey," Marika sighed, "I don't envy your situation, but you will survive this. Be more concerned with whatever is brewing in your wife's stomach. I did ask if you held plans for a dynasty."

Radagon froze, "...It couldn't be so soon-"

"Have you done nothing to mitigate the risks? Or were you and Rennala happy to let nature take its course - actually, that explains how you had three children in less than a decade." Marika held her chin in thought, "You're either an oaf, or a dog who failed to think this through."

"We know nothing yet!" he hissed, and Marika's smile turned smug, "Oh, you will soon enough."

He awoke with the sounds of Marika's laugh fading in his ears, and he worriedly glanced at Elia's sleeping form. Sweat beaded down his brow, and he gently draped an arm over her stomach, a gesture that brought him some measure of comfort as he drew her and Miquella closer.

Stars help them all if the blonde hellion was correct.

Elia awoke with a weight against her side and Radagon's arm draped over her stomach. Grunting under the strain of moving, she paused at the sight of Miquella in their bed, curled between her and his father. Her expression softened as they both slept, idly carding her hand through the boy's hair with a soft sigh, "Yet another divine steals my bedroom."

"You invited me into your chamber, if I recall correctly," Radagon deadpanned as he cracked open an eye. He peered at her intently, and his hand closed over her wrist to draw her closer, "...Are you still unwell?"

She shook her head, resting her cheek atop Miquella's head as she settled back into bed, "...I'm fine. Temporal displacement is never easy on the body, we all know that."

Radagon gave a noncommittal noise in response, unwilling to press the matter despite his mounting suspicions or Marika's speculation, "...I hope you don't take issue with him resting here last night?"

Elia blinked, "I won't chase a boy from his father's side. It's alright…just surprising."

"Remember, he finds a degree of comfort in your company these days." Radagon reminded, cupping her cheek with a quiet exhale, "It's assuring really, to know he has a widening pool of people to turn to."

"...He was a lonely child, wasn't he?" Elia questioned, glancing down to Miquella's sleeping form. The boy truly was growing like a weed, gangly limbs and sleeping like the dead as she did at his age when she began to grow above her peers in height.

"Correct," Radagon nodded, "Beloved but idealized by much of the order and then his own, in truth he likely has only been seen and understood by Godwyn, Malenia, and myself until now."

"Any peers of his, they likely outgrew him," Elia nodded, "...Nor was this easy on Malenia, I imagine?"

"No… yet her situation is vastly different, as is her relationship with you." Radagon muttered, "I wouldn't recommend intervening as you have with Miquella."

"I would sooner have my head bitten off." Elia winced, "Nor do I think a grown woman wants another maternal figure in her life and I have my hands full with whatever role I play to this one." she gestured to Miquella, the boy beginning to stir under their whispered conversation.

"...Is it morning?" gold eyes flicked from Radagon to Elia, and Miquella blinked soft and slow as he sat upright, "Are you feeling better?"

Elia nodded, lightly ruffling the child's hair once she had the willpower to rise from the warm bed, "I am, thank you."

Rykard had been graced with a peaceful journey, it was only fitting that when he arrived to Raya Lucaria with his entourage, that the situation had gone to hell.

It was no overt announcement, but the way mages and guardsmen milled about like frenzied ants to erect palisades and stout watch towers was all too telling. They were fearful of an attack. Yet who remained to be a threat?

Cultists were mad and scrabbling fools, destructive yet rarely so organized as to level townships. Rykard's own order of recusants had never attempted to recapture the glory of his army and followers, the shattering had revealed the woes of full scale war and decimated any capacity to rally troops of that scale again.

Rykard glanced to Radahn as he spoke, "What happened here, for them to be this steeped in anxiety?"

"Morgott didn't rattle them enough to amass fortifications. Access to the academy was restricted, and more checkpoints established, but it didn't consume the town itself." Radahn grimaced, "This is new."

Millicent crossed her arms, eyeing the completed gatehouse with a nervous look, "What happened while we were away?"

"Something dire, if it's finally spurred your community to organize militarily." Malenia informed, "I imagine the Sorceress will have an explanation, or Radahn will receive one from Lady Rennala."

"I hope Radagon's party didn't run into trouble…we haven't had eyes on Leyndell in months." Radahn warned.

Malenia tensed, "...I trust my father to keep Miquella safe."

"Elia would be quick to help him should anything go wrong, I'm sure they're fine." Millicent tried to assure, only earning a gruff nod from the Valkyrie.

"...I know. She can be relied upon in some capacity." Malenia admitted, wordlessly stalking into the village.

Morgott was thankful for the peace his home had been afforded through the night. Ranni was hospitable and quiet company as Melina continued to sleep. It would not be until sunrise when the maiden finally opened her eyes with a disgruntled sound, throwing her arm over her eyes as she turned her face into the sheets.

Bedding? It didn't feel like the guest room Sellen had lent her, the sheets were coarser and smelled more akin to burning wood and the rustic musk of the forest. Melina's eyes snapped open as she propped herself upright, exhaling in relief to see the familiar sight of the cabin. Morgott's broken crown of horns was silhouetted against the dying hearth and a cooling bowl of soup sat on her night stand, smelling faintly of leeks and potatoes.

Ranni and Godwyn were nowhere to be found as she rubbed her eyes, muttering, "...How long has it been?"

"Six or seven hours, roughly." Morgott replied, idly prodding at the coals with a poker, "Sellen collected Godwyn for her questioning, Ranni left in pursuit of her mother, and thy tarnished is resting with her husband I imagine."

"I… I fainted, what of Elia and the others-" Melina pressed, interrupted by the audible rumbling of her stomach.

"...The woman took ill, just as thou did." Morgott informed, glancing over his shoulder to Melina with a weary sigh, "Eat, thou has all the time under the sun to ask questions of me. Thy meal will be chilled before the hour is out."

She hesitated, earning a glare from Morgott, "Tis not poisoned."

"I know that!" Melina sighed, "I didn't expect the hospitality…that caught me by surprise."

Morgott paused, "Ah. Understand that even an Omen can learn the barest principles of decorum and guest rites if I would have the audacity to become a King."

"...noted," Melina sheepishly nodded, eating her soup quietly as Morgott watched her for another moment.

"A word of forewarning. Radagon knows of thy birth, questions will soon follow. Godwyn and I will not be able to answer them all." The omen wrung his wrists, his expression apologetic.

"Shite," Melina muttered between bites, "...How did it come out?"

"...Tis my fault. Apologies." Morgott's tail curled inwards in shame then, "...Tarnished -Elia voiced her doubts about thy safety here, to which I swiftly corrected. I do not harm my family, not unless provoked."

Melina swallowed hard, "I'm not owed that courtesy simply due to shared blood."

"Yet thou assisted Godwyn and I without hesitation. Thou art loyal, more than I gave thee credit for initially." Morgott countered her words with a pointed look, "Kindness is a gift to return in equal measure as to how it is received, despite past transgressions."

"...Well, thank you then." Melina peered down at her lap.

"It does not require thanks, yet the sentiment is appreciated."

Elia earned a fair number of stares to have a child following her like a duckling. She was consigned to a day of rest before Radagon was pulled off towards the ramparts by Lenore, and thus was left with Miquella.

Sellen hadn't yet had the time to find her, and Elia imagined Godwyn was still earning an earful from the headmistress. Yet her uneventful morning wouldn't last for long. Much like a wraith, Una seemed to materialize from the shadows on a whim, and the assassin nearly spooked Elia when she approached the pair in the library.

Tall shelves in desperate need of organizing cast long shadows in the early morning, the candles dim and providing poor light in the stacks to navigate by. Elia had hoped to find a brew for the lingering nausea that persisted, and nearly flew out of her skin when Una's pale face turned the corner.

"Finally, you're back - relax." Una deadpanned, peering down at Elia where she had squarely fallen on her backside. "We need to talk," her cold blue eyes flicked towards Miquella, "Alone."

The boy attempted to help Elia to her feet, eyeing the woman and her armor with open distrust, "Who are you meant to be?"

"My aunt." Elia explained with a grimace, gripping a shelf to pull herself back to her feet as she felt the taste of bile in her throat at the vertigo, "...Una, why are you here exactly?"

Miquella blinked, "You have family?"

Elia winced, "I do. She married my uncle when I was gone."

The boy nodded, his voice small in realization, "Oh."

Una sighed, quickly getting the sense the child was here to stay as she spoke, "You've been traveling across the continent, yet not Nokron."

Arms crossed, and expression expectant, Una's stern demeanor made Elia tense as she chose her next words carefully, "I had agreed to help Radagon reunite with his family with the hope of reconciling. That meant finding all of his sons, our delay could largely be attributed to Morgott's attempt on my life and retrieving Rhoda's memento from the capital."

"...And you let him live?" Una's tone turned venomous.

Elia nodded once, "It was my prerogative. Forgiving him kept the peace with Godwyn." The assassin exhaled tightly, pinching her brow and letting Elia continue, "...I want to see my uncle, yet don't assume a delay denotes apathy."

"Rami has waited months, if one must be truly expedient, I'll pester Rennala to summon a portal-" Una suggested.

"Oh stars, no." Elia shook her head.

"Pardon?" Una frowned, "Why not?"

"Being tossed through one already left me sick." Elia groaned, "I'll inform Radagon that we need to depart, and make accommodations to depart before the week is out."

"Is it necessary that he joins us?" Una sighed, "One can already imagine the contention that he will cause."

"We both have business in Nokron…and may need your help and lore in properly slaying the three fingers." Elia confessed, "It may not be convenient, but he's coming with us and I do want him with me."

"You have the joy of informing him that Rennala is joining us then." Una whispered, dread lacing her tone.

"What?" Elia wheezed as Miquella squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"She's feeling nostalgic for Rami." Una muttered, transparent in her displeasure at the thought of reuniting her husband with his former leigelord, "I thought she would be sympathetic to my people given his association, but her feelings run deeper than I assumed. Inform your husband, and brace yourself."

Elia and Miquella were left in peace after that, the woman holding her head in her hands and dreading the conversation that Una had foisted upon her to have. Miquella lightly held her shoulder, muttering, "...Rennala could be asked to wait, your uncle could always be coaxed to visit her instead?"

She shook her head, "It'd be pathetic to ask her to not accompany us."

"Father wouldn't be enthused about the prospect and wouldn't want you to be ill at ease." Miquella retorted, "Just ask… It's more important for you to reconcile with your family than her to see him, yes? And…your project with father is pressing, and we might need Marika sooner than we think if a war is coming. Many hands would make less work in battle." "...Alright. Are you intending to stay with Malenia this time?" Elia asked.

Miquella shook his head, "I don't see why I should be idle when you and father can barely catch a few days of rest?" "Despite you knowing who we may be reviving soon?" she gently reminded.

Miquella met her gaze, "I know. I don't have much to be afraid of if I'm with my family."

"...I'd better duel Malenia soon, and ask her if she would be willing to accompany us." Elia murmured.

"Thank you…I can let her know what you and father are planning for Marika." Miquella offered, lightly cupping Elia's face in an effort to lift her soured demeanor.

"That would be appreciated," Elia managed a wry smile, "You've been good company to have in our travels, I enjoy you coming along."

"Good luck leaving me behind at Raya Lucaria in the future," Miquella grinned, "I wouldn't be of much use at battle plans regardless, leave that to my brothers."

"Gladly, you're the one I think the most highly of." Elia snorted, rising to her feet as Miquella sported a smug look at being indirectly named as the favorite.

Morgott raised his head at the rapping at his door, reflexively calling over, "Enter," as he expected Sellen to pull him for cross examination.

Instead, he saw Elia step inside his home with Miquella at her side, "...Hello. Is Melina awake?" she asked, scanning the cabin intently. Morgott jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "She's been conscious in waves, she can be awakened if needed." "Thank you for looking after her, Morgott." Elia murmured, hurrying past him towards the cot.

The Omen gave a grunt in response, glancing at Miquella then, "Hast thou found a new shadow, woman?"

Miquella sent Morgott a withering glare, "I go where I please."

The icy tone made Morgott blink, giving a noncommittal shrug in response rather than risk antagonizing the child further.

Miquella's attention quickly shifted to the maiden, and asked Elia in a hushed tone, "...She's one of us, and a friend of yours?"

She nodded, "I…I wouldn't have assumed her parentage, but she was my maiden when I first arrived home."

Gingerly, Elia shook Melina's shoulder and the maiden was roused from her nap with an inelegant groan. That was, until her eyes fell on Elia and the unfamiliar child at her side.

The first words out of Melina's mouth were an apology, and Elia met them with an embrace, "I'm just happy to see you alive."

Scarred hands gripped Elia's shoulders, hugging her friend tightly as the girl murmured, "L-Likewise…did you ever find a cure for

Millicent?"

"I did…rather, Radagon had a method." Elia nodded with a soft sigh, noting how Melina tensed at the mention of his name. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, "..Were you told of what's happened since you were gone?"

"Sellen informed me…it doesn't make the truth any less jarring." Melina admitted and glanced to Miquella, "...Did…did you properly pry him from the cocoon, I thought Mohg's work was binding."

Morgott grimaced at the mention of his brother, a tense bystander as he tried not to stare at Miquella in open scrutiny, not having heard a detailed account of his brother's exploits nor did he have the gall to ask. His knuckles went white from how tightly he clasped his hands, and Elia quietly explained, "...The Rune of the Unborn was the key to undoing the corruption in Miquella's blood. Effectively, the boy was reborn as Rennala rebirthed incomplete children."

Melina studied the boy for a moment, "...It was that simple?"

"I used Radagon as an anchor, but yes?" Elia nodded, "...It purged his curses."

Miquella was quiet, and finally spoke, "Could we not dwell on this subject, please?"

Elia squeezed his shoulder, nodding, "Of course-"

"...I would like a word with thee, Elia. Alone." Morgott spoke up then, contemplative and clearly hesitant. Melina was tensed, and Miquella immediately gripped Elia's sleeve. Neither seemed eager to leave the two unsupervised.

"Its fine." Elia sternly ground out, gently prying her arm from Miquella, "...Lead on Morgott, I'll answer your questions."

"Tis more of a discussion that our present company shouldn't be subjected to." Morgott sent Miquella a sour look for overlooking the Omen's attempt at courtesy.

Elia's stomach sank, knowing full well who Morgott wished to know of.

Mohg.

"Understood." Elia made her way to the door, Morgott lumbered after her with his hunched posture and his tail curled with brewing anxiety.

Once the door shut, Morgott inhaled deeply, peering at Elia with unprecedented hesitation. The air was thick and tense, and Elia chose to initiate the first question, "...Do you want to know of how Mogh fell as an enemy, or of his cult?"

"Both, as well as to how thou found our shackles." Morgott muttered, "My brother…he was not inherently the predator between us, not from birth. Gentler in his inflections and manner, I know not as to when his goddess beckoned him towards the occult, I only know that he tore through the catacombs in a frenzied blood rite."

"Your bindings were rather simple. Two omens, the only sort to not have their horns clipped and the most eloquent men that hand't been beaten into silence or hysteria? The shunning grounds were where I looked, and one cuff seemed to work by process of elimination once we fought in Leyndell. As for Mohg...I'm not the best witness of his character, I rejected any dialogue with him the moment I spurned Varre's advances and took the long road to root out an entrance to Mogwyn Palace." Elia murmured, "I found him ensconced in Miquella's cocoon and speaking as intimately as a lover. It was unsettling and perverse in a way that even Rykard's brutality was not."

Morgott grit his teeth, collecting himself before speaking again in clipped syllables, "Do not. Do not liken my brother to that monstrosity."

Elia nodded, surprisingly calm as she took a seat on a nearby stump and gestured for Morgott to take the bench, "Fair enough. Mohg, through whatever perspective of his, spoke fondly and was intimately possessive of his charge before we faced one another in battle. Millicent was in my company at the time and Malenia had already been felled. We were perhaps…over confident and single minded to find Miquella and had hoped he was lucid enough to offer insight to his research. A miracle would have been a complete cure to the Scarlet Rot."

She shook her head and swore, "Instead he was corrupted and in a vegatative state. I've never seen work quite like Mohg's, his goddess is a strange thing to find potency in blood, and an omen very blood is charged with the crucible's essence, it was a formidable combination."

Morgott cocked his head then, "...an odd way to view our curse."

"The Golden Order is ancient, but not a religion that has existed in perpetuity." Elia countered, "After all we have experienced, I'm willing to bet they were wrong or arbitrary in what was denounced as heretical or holy. You aren't a hellspawn simply because an outer god couldn't contain the erratic nature of the crucible."

The omen didn't meet her gaze, "...Continue, what was the measure of my brother's lieutenants and disciples?"

"...Seductive." Elia sighed, "Varre hoped to be suave and alluring, more personable than the flagellation and self imposed burden of sin the Golden Order imparts on its worshippers. I understand the argument, yet I was a terrible choice to sell his cult to when I wasn't reared under that religion."

"Then pray tell, what faith made thou so impervious?" Morgott asked, his tone bitter.

Elia winced, "I'm not unassailable… and we assimilated heavily into Liurnia."

"Yet thou haven't gone the way of its disgraced academics, nor are thy weapons drawn from fundamentalism or glintstone sorcery. Something was retained that made thee as enduring as a tumor." Morgott pressed.

"We could argue this point for hours and be no closer to an answer, Knossos possessed a more cosmic understanding of energy, how transient life is in that scale, and the role we play in that broader framework - perhaps it bred less uncertainty and hysteria in my people, yet all the same we expired and fell from favor. It matters little in the grand scheme of things." Elia sighed, "Varre failed because I had no god to be bitter against, and I found his terms repugnant. He could very well still be alive, I never advertised my hostility for him, and kept my head down as greatly as I could. Once I had three runes to my name, he squarely let me be with little more than a pleasant 'hello' and didn't have the stupidity to pursue me."

"Once Mohg was dead…he was unaccounted for, and he wasn't at the citadel when we rescued Miquella either." she muttered, "I would have expected to find him sooner than Gideon, in all honesty. I'd hoped the old man learned humility and left politics alone."

"...I don't sense that thou art upset about the man dying rather than the fallout his death will cause," Morgott ventured, studying Elia then.

"Because I wasn't fond of him. Sparing him was a courtesy towards Nepheli, not a kindness he was owed." she muttered, "We've avoided a war this long…a disaster was going to land in our lap sooner or later. It'll be unpleasant, but we can handle this, and I sooner want Godwyn to learn to not pull this shit again than cast you two out."

"Here I thought I would be cast out at the nearest opportunity." Morgott confessed.

"I keep my promises, and your brother is dear to me," Elia said, "Even when he's an oaf sometimes. Who else is as loyal as him?"

"Very few men can ever aspire to be as reliable as him." Morgott nodded in agreement.

"You might be in the same echelon." Elia gently corrected him, "What you do for your family doesn't go unnoticed, Morgott."

His voice died in his throat, and the omen said little else. The silence continued, made almost pleasant by the thawing breeze of spring.

To Let Old Ghosts Rest

To withstand Sellen's questioning while sober was a fate worse than undeath, Godwyn realized in short order. Two hours within her office, enduring a litany of questions as to what Gideon's forces had resembled and their numbers made for a hairsplitting recollection of the assassination when Godwyn finally interrupted.

"I could tell you how the bastard went bug eyed when I killed him, or how close I came to losing my eyebrows to an Omenkiller's flaming breath, and we would be no closer to the point of this conversation." Godwyn grimaced, "Sellen, Elia had a much more succinct way of reprimanding me, have you vented your ire yet?"

The witch's frown deepened as she eyed the young man, "Have you learned why this was a foolish plan from the start?"

"...The lesson is slow to set in, but I'm not a child." Godwyn countered, "What I do for my siblings…it won't undermine the safety of our home again."

Sellen blinked, his words making her pause as she halted her pacing, "I have a final question for you?" "Ask, and then dispatch me to properly help with the troops." Godwyn ground out.

"Were you always this self righteous in confronting enemies of your family?" Sellen questioned.

"Yes." He replied without hesitation, "I also mended bridges when possible. Gideon participated in genocide and deserved no quarter. Yes his death was sloppy…and I miscalculated. Yet do not take me for a warmonger who has no notion of reconciliation or peace. Fortissax would not have been my companion had I only hungered for war."

"I sooner take you for an entitled prince." Sellen corrected, "Go. Lenore can't orchestrate drills or relay commands to the construction projects at once. I'll be speaking with Radagon next."

Godwyn bristled at the comment and sent her a sour look, "I pray you're more respectful of his time than mine. The man isn't as patient as I am."

"I'm asking for his help, not reprimanding him." Sellen returned to her desk.

Godwyn left her without another word, exhaling tightly as he rubbed his temples.

The echo of Godwyn's footsteps against marble tile carried, the man tensed and alone in his thoughts as he stalked away from the astral wing. Sellen's disappointment stung harsher than he would like to admit and he fully expected Lenore would be furious with him once he found his way to the training yards.

However, Fia found him first. Quiet as a wraith in her light footfalls and billowing dress, her voice gently parted the silence with his name, "Godwyn."

He froze, jaw set and breaking into cold sweat as he peered over his shoulder. Fia lingered near a column, hands tightly laced and her expression riddled with uncertainty. Godwyn's shoulders slumped, and he turned to face her, "Fia."

"...You killed him?" she stepped forward, her tone too soft to be accusatory, rather she seemed to still be in disbelief.

He nodded, "...Ofnir is dead, yes. You…you had associated with him?"

"He facilitated my stay at the roundtable…was he a companion, no. Yet he was my host once." Fia nodded, "...the situation was tolerable until I was confronted by another Tarnished who took issue with how I communed with death. Only then was I driven out."

"Do you mourn him?" Godwyn asked, his tone gently as he carefully took Fia's hands. The woman shook her head, "I want to know why you did this, when you've shown mercy to Ranni to keep the peace."

His throat tightened, "...Gideon was an affront to my brother in those he employed, and a bane to the albinuarics. Threatening a community I now dwell with and my family was intolerable…and Ranni earns some credit for having assisted me in that endeavor."

"Family means everything to you." Fia murmured in realization, not shying from his hold as she bumped her brow to his, "Don't do this again, please. I don't wish to see you cast out, or to lose another home…not after being separated from my companions for so long."

"...you slumbered for months waiting for me. That was a high enough price to pay for putting your faith in a dead prince." Godwyn sighed, wrapped his arms around Fia, "...War will be coming, I'm sorry for what you may see, and the battles Elia will be fighting."

"Help her then, and make a peace that lasts." Fia muffled against his shoulder, embracing him tightly. His hand gently carded through her blonde locks, and Godwyn relented, "I will, I owe it to you both to solve this mess."

The cells of Stormveil were a fetid and clammy cistern upon which rainwater pooled and fungi grew in the dusty annals of.

Nepheli did not venture down into the cells often, there was no need to with the lot of them empty and fallen into disuse. Save for one, barred and kept under constant watch in a small rotation guardsmen. The few months that Stormveil had sat under Nepheli's command had been largely peaceful, a fortress poised to keep the peace once the Erdtree finally burned.

Unfortunately, that peace ended in the ensuing weeks as Leyndell was buried by ash, the Roundtable was emptied, and the whereabouts of her father became unknown. Contact with Liurnia had been a slow trickle… the best Nepheli had surmised was that Elia had succeeded by some measure. Scattered reports tracked the woman from as far north as the consecrated snow fields, to as far south as Caelid. Traveling with a resolving cohort, and a redheaded consort. The details…Nepheli intended to pry them from Elia once they could speak face to face.

For the moment, Liurnia was stable, and Stormveil had its own mess to contain.

Shackled in the bowels of her dungeons sat a frail man that felt as far removed from Horah Loux's bloodline as an insect from the sun. By whatever ill begotten grace that persisted in Godrick's blood, the man still breathed.

The grafted king had been found unconscious in the early hours of dawn, collapsed in the same bloodied stain that Elia had reduced him to almost a year ago.

Awoken with his face pressed to rust red cobblestone, the grafted man felt small and possessed too few limbs as he rose onto his hands and knees. Pale eyes flicked to the ashen visage of the Erdtree, dead and haggard as he felt. Rasping, the man muttered, "...What has she done?" he felt his chest, the comforting warmth and weight of his rune gone. Only the pulse of his heart emanated through his ribcage, and Godrick dragged his fingertips over the bloodstain he had left.

Distant shouts, and the clanking of armor beckoned Godrick's attention away from the horizon, and the man turned to see a spear leveled for his face in warning. The words of the soldiers might as well have been gibberish in his haze. Little registered in his ears, and finally, one soldier seemed to connect pale locks, gold eyes, and his youthful face as something unnatural.

The shaft of a spear thudded against his skull, and the man fell limp.

He would be in chains by the time he resurfaced into consciousness, his surroundings illuminated by dim torchlight and arms bound behind his back as a woman stood over him.

Her complexion made him pause, and Godrick half expected to see the Tarnished with her chitinous armor and mismatched eyes. He would have had words for the upstart that slew his scion.

Instead, he saw a foreign woman with dark eyes, donning the garb of a badlands clansman.

"...Who the hell are you?" the demigod crudely asked.

Nepheli sighed, "The Lady of this castle, Nepheli Loux. Now, by what grace do you still draw breath for, Godrick?"

The name made Godrick stare, muttering, "...My grandsire produced a bastard tarnished?"

It was fair to claim that Godrick had made a poor impression upon his host when Nepheli stormed from the cell without a word.

Radagon entered Sellen's office with raised brows, "What is it you needed to discuss, Sellen?"

In what may have been the most civil greeting she gave him, Sellen nodded to him, "Thank you for seeing me despite the early hour. Have a seat, Radagon… I wish to know your insights in war, and holding a settlement that could very well witness a siege."

His brows furrowed, straight to business then. Obliging sellen's hospitality, he took a seat in the velvet clad chair and rested his hands atop her desk, "You never want this to become a siege. Not without war engines and proper supply lines. Boggart may be a haggling man and a knack for establishing trade, he cannot feed an army with only a handful of outlying fishing villages, and our numbers have swelled immensely."

"...We have nearly a thousand residents, between students and faculty, the garrison, and townsfolk who've brought with them a trade or taken to fishing and raising what livestock we can facilitate in marshlands."

"Small, but far beyond a tiny hamlet." Radagon nodded, "Call upon Stormveil, you and Elia have spoken of it as a stronghold helmed by a friend of hers, yes?"

"Indeed, Nepheli holds the castle, and reached out to Elia in your absence, actually. I have two letters for her to read once she's well." Sellen nodded, "You would have asked for what, weapons, men, food?"

"Weapons and architects who can oversee the construction of trebuchets and ballistas." Radagon nodded, "...We have to be able to fend off raiding parties with the numbers we possess, lest we constantly bleed men who aren't familiar with these lands. I would advise you to take stock of your elderly and infirm. Assure they can flee to Limgrave to a proper citadel should we falter or suffer casualties."

Sellen nodded, "...I fought in the first wars you waged against us. My students and I may be of help."

"Only with a vanguard to keep them defended." Radagon sighed, "Patrols and expanding the perimeter of land we hold with formal outposts is a necessary labor now that we've entered wartime. With that comes the burden of manning a border and ensuring our roads and neighboring settlements are safe. For the moment, your mages are as useful as they can be in this town, and eventually in an outpost with a garrison to support them."

"I ask this not to be impertinent or to test a nerve, yet what of Marika's role in wartime? How was she an asset to you, and what can we expect of Elia now that she houses the ring?" Sellen spoke, tentative and eyes downcast.

Radagon collected his thoughts in silence, staring at Sellen with a heavy gaze, "Marika was the most pivotal in felling the Dragons and Fire Giants to the north. Elia could be used to raze a battlefield, to wage indiscriminate damage, or a vanguard in one woman. I worry about the toll that would take on her, but it is possible." "...I don't want her seen as nothing else but a war asset." Sellen grimaced.

"But you understand that circumstances may force her hand." Radagon sighed, "I don't find any fault in that question, but I ask that you sooner use me than her."

Sellen nodded, "We understand each other then."

"...However. Elia and I have a pending matter that can't wait much longer, not when she's seen her end of our original arrangement to find my surviving family."

Sellen paused, "It involves Rami, doesn't it?"

"How…how are you aware of that development?"

"A Noxian woman arrived with Rennala and lamented how long it was taking Elia to venture to the city.'' Sellen sighed, "Be warned, Rennala held the desire to accompany you. She's still fond of her former knight." "Absolutely not." Radagon shook his head.

"I make no judgment, but you will have to tell that to her, or discuss the delicacy of that situation with Elia." Sellen pressed, "She needs to know what's in store for her."

"...I know." Radagon's posture tensed then, "I also have something to ask of you, it requires discretion, and for you not want to maim me if my hunch is correct?"

"I've no reason to harm you if you haven't done something untoward. What happened?" Sellen asked, brows raised in curiosity.

"Elia may be pregnant." Radagon whispered, "I need your help in sourcing the reagents to test that fact."

"O-Oh." Sellen grew quiet, "...I see. Does she know she could be expecting?"

"I don't know. She hasn't brought up the subject…and I'd rather be prepared to confirm my suspicions before I raise any questions."

"Your marital life is not my business under most circumstances…but stars, why did you not come to me for anything that could mitigate this?" Sellen hissed, "Pregnancy and war never pair well!"

"I know," he muttered, "I hold no excuse for this, but what is done is done."

Sellen held her face, "Keep her safe, that is all I can ask for now. Focus on handling Rennala and having this discussion with Elia… I'll handle the materials we need for the tests."

"Thank you, Sellen." Radagon dipped his head.

"You're welcome. I only wish we were learning this under more auspicious circumstances."

Nepheli spent fleeting periods in Godrick's company, and the demigod seemed to have taken the hint to not comment upon her parentage.

When the woman finally graced his cell, he chose his question carefully, "...Why am I in shackles, and not merely dead with my head on a pike?"

Nepheli's eyes narrowed, "Others may not want you dead, and death may not be a permanent solution for your ilk yet." she paced when they spoke, not keen to settle her gaze on the frail and delicate man that had been beneath the pounds of grafted flesh and bone.

Godrick leaned forward, a slender hand clasping the bars as he spoke, "Is it such a surprise that the divine are enduring-"

"You aren't a god!" Nepheli grimaced, "You're a despot that went mad and slew hundreds."

"I take offense to being dubbed insane." Godrick sighed, cocking his head at the warrior then, "My kinsman, do they still live, or were they slain for their runes as well by your Tarnished?"

Nepheli nodded, "...The ring is in Elia's hands now. Tis all I will say of the demigods."

"Did she crown you, throw you a bone in bequeathing this castle to a fellow tarnished?" Godrick eyed Nepheli a moment, "Or are your brethren all equally ambitious, and this was how she addressed a rival?"

"You think us all to be cloying and ravenous folk, so keen to eat each other alive?" Nepheli scoffed.

"Your lot certainly seemed poised to do so, how else would Rykard and the Lord of Blood sustain their cults, if not for aimless tarnished desperate for shelter and control over their meager lot in life?" Godrick retorted.

"They could rally their cults, command influence at least. What about you? Guarded and bottlenecked by an omen more feared than the lowest of the demigods?" Nepheli hissed, "Don't speak to me of worth or integrity."

"...The demigods didn't sunder this world to the point of destroying the source of grace. The Erdtree is dead, this world despoiled." Godrick shook his head, "...How far removed are you from Godfrey's line, girl?"

Nepheli flinched, "...He sired me during his exile, my memories of him are few. Why do you ask?"

"I merely wonder if you hold any semblance of him? He was a bygone legend by the time I was born…Godwyn didn't speak much of him, not to me." Godrick laced his hands together, contemplative and weary.

"...He was sooner a warlord than a father. I have little recollection of him that would be worth sharing." Nepheli murmured.

The silence lingered heavily between the pair, and Godrick shook his head, "Leave me be."

Nepheli didn't need to be told twice to leave his presence.

The bowels of Mohgwyn Palace had been silent in wake of Miquella's capture.

Little did Elia know, killing the Sanguine Noble had quelled a loathsome faction of the cult that deluded itself into notions of glory.

A trident sat broken atop a worktable, untouched and powerless. Varre was no smith, and sooner an artisan of flesh and blood.

Who else had the hands skilled enough to have mended the fractured face of his lord?

Mohg's form was limp, an arm still composed of sinew and raw muscle, a leg missing. The omen's face had been the most afflicted, his good eye slashed, his horns sliced and scuffed by those fell swords Elia wielded.

The crown of horns had been reconstituted in bronze and gold, the smith had been most compliant under Varre's scalpel. Their skills had almost been as valuable as the flesh and bone used to reconstitute Mohg's body

Soon, there would be a body complete and receptive to house a soul once more.

Blessings and Blasphemy

Elia had proven easier to find than Rennala, or perhaps Radagon felt less overwhelmed to find his wife than to try to draw a line in the sand with Rennala yet.

Regardless, she and Miquella had been in the town proper, the boy shadowing her as the woman conversed with Boggart. The pair seemed to be in the midst of a conversation, and Radagon wasn't rude enough to intrude despite his urgency.

"I don't blame you for my injuries, Boggart," Elia deadpanned, clapping the man over the shoulder with a scolding look, "Don't discount crab to the point where you'd be insolvent as a merchant."

The fishmonger sent her a dry look, "I know you're not the sort to up and die if a bugger jabs you in the ribs. I still don't like that my friend did…that, and I brought him here."

"Cheaper crab doesn't make my scars fade any faster." Elia reminded, "Though it does let me spoil my husband. Call us even

after this."

"Fine, fine. When did that bloke take to fish though - Altus and Leyndell don't seem the type to have ever liked prawns much." Boggart muttered.

"They typically didn't, no. Radagon has a taste for dungeness though." Elia grinned with pride as Miquella squinted.

"Just what were you doing with my father before I woke up?" the boy muttered.

"Broadening his palette to food beyond rations or wild game." Elia rolled her eyes, "Someone had to."

Boggart glanced between the pair, brows raised and saying nothing. His expression told enough for Elia to look away sheepishly. Yes, she had picked up a stray, and yes it was terribly domestic. Clearing his throat, Boggart asked, "How long will you be home? Rogier's been antsy to see you again."

"I ought to pay him a visit…the stay home will be brief, but I don't intend to be gone long." Elia mused.

"Good, we need you before things go tits up again." Boggart's tone lowered, "What happened with that Gideon fellow, we see banners and emissaries, and now Lenore's erecting palisades left right and center. We have walls."

Elia exhaled tightly, "...Morgott and Godwyn took it upon themselves to solve our Gideon problem. Now we're expecting any variety of soldiers or swaths of an army to blame the likely culprit. Us."

Boggart swore under his breath, "Daft bastards."

"Agreed, but here we are, bracing for the inevitable mess." Elia sighed, "If you can pull any contacts and shore up supply lines for food and raw goods, now is the time where we'll need them."

"I'll get it done." Boggart nodded, waving her off as his eyes caught sight of the looming spectator to their conversation.

Radagon's hair had never boded well for stealth.

Elia followed Boggart's gaze, brows receding into her hairline as she muttered, "...I thought you'd be with Sellen still."

"Talks were surprisingly as efficient as they were civil." Radagon approached, hands clasped at his back and glancing to Boggart, "...You're Elia's preferred dealer for crab, no?"

"I am. You're the bloke she's taken a liking to, eh?" Boggart asked, "The names Boggart."

Radagon slowly offered a hand, "Radagon, she speaks highly of you, Boggart."

"I'd be worried if she didn't," Boggart replied, "Go on, you know where to find me, Elia."

She nodded, propping her basket of crab over her hip and gingerly taking Radagon's hand to lead him towards a secluded corner of the market.

The body in Varre's lap seized as spider silk sutured raw muscle together into a cohesive mass of sinew. Joining the severed leg to the omen's hip had been a particular challenge, given the delicacy of sinew and bone. To overlay flesh was easy, the facade to the complex workings of a body given life.

Mohg's form would not be seamless. Gold thread marked the seams and junctures of limbs, much like gold caulking repairing a fractured vase or kettle. The labor of mending the omen had spanned months, wrought by sleepless nights and an unrivaled focus as Varre held the limp form atop his lap. Gently, Varre cupped Mohg's face to inspect his handiwork, pleased to have avoided stitching the omen's face back into place. Beyond the gilded horns, Mohg's visage resembled how he had appeared in life as in death with impressive fidelity.

The body was ready. It was only a question if the soul would be receptive.

It was no easy feat to move Mohg's corpse, yet Varre was far from frail despite his lithe build. The many vials of blood clinked like bells from his belt as he carried the omen to the peak of the acropolis, where Miquella's cocoon had once sat. Maiden's blood, the fell omen's reconstituted blood had been scraped from Leyndell, and the imperishable gold ichor all sat in those glass bottles.

Elia's blood had been spilled in abundance, coating both the trident and the slate floors when Varre had finally returned to the citadel that winter. Some twelve vials had been filled, an interesting concoction of life and grace to preserve the meat and bone grafted into Mohg's body. Even with Varre's skill, the omen would have rotted on the table by the time his work was complete.

The Tarnished had bought Varre the time to achieve perfection.

Once Mohg was lain atop the dias, the candles lit, and blood poured into the recessed inscriptions of the altar, Varre hefted the trident. The ceremonial weapon was finally restored and whole once more.

Russet light overtook the citadel, crackling energy ran up the length of the trident, and the dias began to overflow as a fountain of sanguine waters.

"Mother of mothers, heed my prayer," Varre pressed his bloodstained brow to the trident, ichor dried and flaking against his skin like gold leaf, "Raise thy favoured son, let the skies boil and the world bleed for its transgressions, swallow this new goddess in thy maw. Bleed her dry and feast."

The pits of a god's hunger knew no bounds, yet Varre's offering sated that primal ache if only for a moment. Beckoned forth, the formless mother spoke in no language, took no shape to comprehend. Actions told of her acceptance and Mogh's eye took on a ruby hue as his form began to stir.

Varre's prayer had been answered.

Graceless eyes took in the sight of the Erdtree. Listing and its many boughs beginning to snap and fracture, the tree was well and truly dead. What had that girl done, Godfrey wondered as he leaned heavily into his stave.

More than simply Morgott's blood stained the floors now, and the many columns saw signs of an impact or clashing with brute force, tells of yet another battle being fought in these halls that could not be credited to Godfrey. He cursed his current state, perhaps finally witnessing old age hamper his strength.

Revival had not come easily, nor had his memory. The waning call of grace had given the man a lifeline, one chance to correct his error. He'd awoken in an abandoned chapel, a maiden dead, and the weeping coast of Limgrave a familiar sight. Yet he was many precious days removed from Leyndell, without his weapons, armor, or Serosh. Not that the beast would have been necessary, the war drums of war that raged with his pulse had dampened, and his own body fatigued greatly in defeat.

It took the man weeks to venture from the province, and he sooner found refuge in dilapidated campsites or cabins. With ever increasing dread, winter set in, and the Erdtree lost any trace of gold as the weeks wore on. Godfrey wouldn't deny that fear had gripped him, that he awaited Marika's wroth, or whatever judgment the Greater will would impose for failure.

Yet, like a forgotten sword, nothing came in the night for him.

No monsters rapped at his door, he never had to flee through the broken window he'd repaired in his first week of dwelling within the cabin. The days simply took on a monotony of routine and rhythm.

He would hunt twice a week, checking various snares in the nearby forest, or he would tend to the cabin. The homestead had sat empty for months, yet it lacked the signs of true neglect. Someone had occupied it recently, its tenant long gone to have never found Godfrey squatting there. Storms demanded shingles be replaced, snowfall was cumbersome work to clear when it fell as high as his knees.

Yet day after day, Godfrey persisted with nothing else beyond his own company and the abandoned belongings of a tarnished.

The cabin had sported a spare sword, simple vestments and armor within a chest alongside rations of dried meat and nuts. Yet the more Godfrey searched, the more he found that puzzled him. Floor boards had been pried, the bed hastily pushed aside when he had initially found the cabin.

Perhaps a thief had driven the cabin's first occupant. No other trinkets or treasures were hidden under the floorboards, but shelves and chests held a variety of items. Liurnian tomes from Raya Lucaria, reliquary objects from Leyndell, pendants and seals of the Golden Order.

It was particularly amusing to find a whip of red locks, and for a moment Godfrey was reminded of the stoic general he'd never said farewell to. Items from across the continent sat here, telling too many stories to count.

When the spring thaws finally began, Godfrey set out once more, a woodsman's axe strapped to his back and a deerskin cloak and tunic serving as his garb. He would remember these woods, and perhaps return here if nothing was to be found in Leyndell.

War and battle were things long since behind him…and mercifully the world seemed to still turn despite that conundrum.

Thus, he was puzzled to find the remnants of a battle in Leyndell. Gruesome cleavers sat abandoned on the tile, and gold ichor made the warrior freeze at the sight of it.

Only gods bled gold.

He ran his hand over the stain, it flaked much like gold leaf, long since dry, yet the cleavers and red stains their wielders had reduced too seemed much fresher. Less dust had settled over the weapons, the blood a dull russet hue tingeing the air with its scent.

Godfrey exhaled tightly, eyeing the open chasm of the Erdtree. With ever growing dread, he ascended the steps.

The Sanctum's doors rattled in the draft that swept into the antechamber and Godfrey saw the Erdtree sanctum for what it was.

An empty temple to a god that no longer occupied it. No trace of Marika lingered, only a lone anvil sat there…and the goddess' hammer was missing.

Godfrey grimaced, turning away from the sanctum with growing ire.

What had that tarnished girl done?

Elia cradled the scroll Radagon placed in her hands, "...Your companion wrote to you while we had been away. Sellen entrusted me with relaying the message."

She nodded once, "Nepheli - think of her as my counterpart in Stormveil, she holds the castle and from what I understand, a formidable garrison."

"You finally claim to be a leader?" Radagon's tone was light as he watched her break the seal with a scoff.

"In some sense, I am. She's a much more direct presence with her warband, Stormveil will always lend itself to being a fortress than a city proper?"

"Correct, even in my time it was sooner a series of hamlets and forts. Limgrave was often where fresh recruits were drilled and trained into the lower ranks." Radagon murmured, "...I do wish to discuss our impending trip once you've read the letter, among other things."

Elia's grip tightened on the scroll as she sucked in a sharp breath, "...I thought we'd be having this discussion one way or another."

His hand gently squeezed her shoulder, silent and letting her read as Miquella tried to make out the scrawling handwriting.

"I pity your friend's penmanship." the boy muttered, only for Elia to huff.

She raised the letter pointedly out of eyesight, "Don't snoop, it's rude." she deadpanned, frowning at the contents, "...It would be one thing to assume the Round Table Hold sits empty and Gideon being the one responsible for stripping its resources bare… but Hewg. He shouldn't have been disturbed, none of us would have raised a hand to him." she whispered.

Radagon and Miquella froze, and the man was the first to speak, "...Marika's pet blacksmith-"

"He wasn't a pet." Elia snapped, blinking twice, "How do you know his name?"

Radagon winced, "Apologies. Yes he was in her service towards the latter years of her reign and uniquely skilled amongst the misbegotten laborers in Leyndell. I wasn't aware that he had survived the Shattering."

"He was shackled and tasked to refine our weapons until one could finally slay a god. There…There wasn't much left of his mind by the time the tree was set aflame." Elia murmured.

"Ah. He was the one to temper your swords." Radagon held his chin in thought, now comprehending how chitin hadn't shattered under his hammer.

"He was, I…I wasn't there for long before I set out for Leyndell, not with Millicent's condition."

"You can't hold responsibility for the entirety of your tarnished companions. There was a job to do and you had already set events in motion. I imagine with Maliketh dead, the clock was ticking to get to the tree."

Elia nodded, "Leyndell's wards were destroyed with Morgott dead and no longer defending the tree. Anyone could have made their bid for the throne in theory. It would only be a matter of besting Godfrey."

Miquella's brows flew up sharply, and Radagon shook his head, "A story for another time, Miquella. Tell me, what do you suspect happened to Hewg?"

"Nepheli doesn't describe a murder or signs of aggression…. I think he was taken and assumed to be dead. It wouldn't be the first time foul play happened within the hold, nor would I go there to spring another trap. Ensha nearly killed me once by using the haven to his advantage. Another Tarnished could do the same."

Radagon grimaced, "What else did your friend say?"

She sighed, "Nepheli wishes to meet face to face."

"...We can't detour across the continent on foot." Radagon muttered.

"Bring a bucket and draw the array." Elia shook her head, "We don't have time to dither… and ideally we're bringing my uncle back with us as an extra combatant."

"Come with me- this isn't a conversation for prying eyes and ears." Radagon glanced to Miquella, "...Find Godwyn-"

"You need privacy." Miquella deadpanned, "I understand. Find me at the library when you two finish."

Elia ruffled the boy's hair in passing, "Thank you, if you'd like, I can unlock the observatory again tonight?"

Miquella visibly brightened at the prospect, nodding before darting off towards the academy.

Radagon's grip on Elia's hand was like iron, his expression tense as he led her away from the plaza, "What I want to discuss does pertain to your sickness."

Elia's stomach sank, confusion and dread lacing her tone, "A-Ah, alright."

Elia had been pulled aside to the outskirts of the village, still wooded and beginning to teem with budding flowers. She doubted it was for any whimsical intent that Radagon had led her here. Radagon kept a keen eye on their surroundings, wary of being followed before he took her hands, "I'm aware of Rennala hoping to join us. Leave that conversation to me, please. She would complicate things, and we don't have the luxury of time to facilitate a reunion."

"Thank you," Elia murmured, "I wasn't looking forward to that confrontation…yet who told you?"

"Sellen. She's had to mediate Rennala and your aunt in the interim. As well… I did ask for her assistance, and realized another issue is afoot, sooner than either of us intended. It…it's my fault." Radagon didn't meet her gaze, sheepish and stumbling to find the words.

"Go on, if we can speak of navigating the quandaries of marriage, we can speak plainly with one another." Elia assured.

"Is it purely chance that you experienced vertigo and nausea?" Radagon intoned.

Elia processed those words for several moments, tightly clasping her hands over her stomach with a hissing inhale. Slowly, she nodded, "...Well. That… that would complicate things, wouldn't it?"

Radagon dipped his head with a sigh, "I asked Sellen to help procure the materials to test my hunch, if you'll allow it to be done."

"And she didn't smite you?" Elia released a nervous laugh, "If that isn't progress." "Elia, focus." Radagon ground out, his tone nearly pleading.

Her shoulders slumped, nodding once, "Yes, we can't ignore it."

"...I'm sorry to have this unfold during war time." he murmured, not having an excuse to hide behind.

"Did I ever question the risk?" Elia muttered, "It is what it is… and if we have a child on the way, we adapt."

Radagon paused, "...You'd accept it, even now?"

"I meant every word that I told you in Mount Gelmir." Elia finally met his gaze, intense and undaunted, "Did you?" "I did, and still do." Radagon's lips were soft when they brushed over her brow.

The mahogany doors to Rennala's chamber felt monolithic as Radagon stood before them. Thrice did his knuckles rap against the varnished wood.

A moment lapsed before Rennala's voice flitted through the grain like fingertips across the strings of a harp.

"Enter."

Radagon pushed open the doors, sucking a sharp breath to brace himself as he entered the chamber.

Rennala sat down to a chaise, a book in hand and nursing a cup of tea as blue eyes raked over Radagon in firm scrutiny, clearly not expecting him. Smoothly, she set aside her tome and drink, crossing her arms as she asked, "What is it thou needs of me… is Rykard alright?"

"Mercifully, yes. He's properly himself again in body and mind. He'll be returning shortly with the rest of his household and siblings." He explained, "Yet that isn't why I came. You wished to join us to Nokron, to reunite with Okeanos?" Rennala nodded, "That I did. Does it present an issue?" she challenged, stern and pointed in her gaze.

Radagon exhaled sharply, "Yes. It does. You won't be accompanying us, not with how pressed for time we are, and not at the expense of Elia's sanity. A family reunion doesn't need to be complicated by our history." "Is thy presence any more justified than my own?" Rennala asked.

"Plans had been cemented before your involvement." Radagon rebutted, "...I propose this. Wait, and we will implore Rami to return to Liurnia. Is that a fitting compromise to allow you to see him?"

Rennala wrung her wrists, "I'm surprised Elia dictated that thee should initiate this discussion."

"Perhaps she did not want to confront a mentor and queen she respects, but now stands in the midst of a complex marital history." Radagon explained, "...and her wellbeing is a priority."

Rennala chewed on those words, contemplative and dipping her head once, "Thou art her husband. Very well."

Radagon blinked, the silence dragging on as Rennala muttered, "I wish the girl no ill will, and hadn't thought this would impart such grief. Dost thou think me to be a vindictive witch?"

"I…I don't. Yet what do we think of each other after so long?" He asked.

"That is not a discussion I am prepared to conduct, not yet." Rennala confessed, "...There will be much work here at the academy to assist Sellen with, I won't be idle."

"As you wish." Radagon dipped his head, "I may not be your husband, yet know I am at my family's disposal."

Rennala's expression tentatively brightened at that sentiment, "I will remember that. Go on, there must be more pressing matters than I to tend to

Bloodlines and Heartlines

The view from the gatehouse was a lovely one, marked by the tentative emergence of green and pastels through melting snow.

In stark contrast to the tulips pushing through the soil, palisades and trenches grew by the hour.

Lenore prayed that it would be enough to prevent another slaughter.

High walls and armed soldiers meant a defense that went leagues beyond Lenore's squat little village, one that burned like kindling when put to the torch. She still remembered the sickening crunch of bone when the omen killer's cleaver descended upon her leg.

Lenore remembered much of that hellish night with acute clarity.

Her screams had pierced the air with the cacophony of smoldering fire and hysteric cries, a symphony that only began to quiet as more were dragged to the flames or impaled. Lenore would have been next, she should have been next.

Gloved hands had gripped her by the scruff of her shirt, her broken and lame leg quashing whatever mobility she was lucky to retain as one of the few healthy folk in the village. Dragged through mud and pooling blood, the pyre was little more than an orange and golden blur of heat through Lenore's blurring vision.

Scalding, hungry, and opening like a maw, the omen killer was poised to throw her forward into the fire before the muted thunk of a sword sank through thick leathers and into flesh. The grip on Lenore's neck slackened and she fell limply into the dirt, curled in upon herself with a low groan. Pale eyes only glimpsed blue as the Tarnished lunged, her swords impaling the man's back until a forceful kick sent him forward.

Blood dripped from her swords, sizzling and smelling of acid against the strange metal. She shouted a name, "Nepheli!"

From the flank, another woman rushed into the fray, a battle axe in hand and swinging for the omen with a warcry. Steel caught on the serrated edge of the cleaver, the man braced on one knee and eyeing the Tarnished women with singular focus.

Lenore was all but forgotten in the face of a predator meeting a contender, she was merely a pest watching the beasts fight.

Nepheli and her companion were all that stood between Lenore and the pyre, circling the omenkiller with not a word spoken between them. Yet when the Tarnished feinted to the left, Nepheli seamlessly swooped in from the rear, her axe cutting harshly underneath the man's arm, forcing a scream that sounded all too human in that moment. The swing of his cleaver went wide, the flat of the blade clubbing Nepheli harshly across the jaw as he staggered back.

A potion was hastily swallowed by the omen killer, and Lenore felt the heat before she had the instinct to duck from the plume of fire spilling from the man's maw. Down an arm, the man's swings were sluggish and ill timed, yet one foul hit could spell out death. The Tarnished seemed to have little fear of losing her neck, leaping high before diving the man with two swords goring into his eyes as she landed atop his chest.

Her weight and momentum sent him toppling back, the dwindling flames rolling off of her armor and petering out into embers as the omen fell in a limp heap. With a heaving grunt, the woman stood over the dead man, assessing the mess before angling her sword and gripping his mask by the horn.

In a sharp motion, her sword cleaved his head from his neck. Lenore curled in on herself further with a soft cry.

All the fury and pride bled from the woman's face, dropping the corpse and locking eyes with the injured girl, "I-I'm not going to harm you, I swear."

She stepped forward, murmuring, "...Don't run, please. You might be one of the few souls still alive."

Lenore pressed a hand to her face, stiffly nodding and asking, her voice thick and slurred, "You..your friend, is she dead?"

Nepheli groaned, holding her bruised jaw and motioning for Elia. A potion was hastily tossed over, and the warrior downed its contents without second thought after pulling the cork with her teeth.

"She's sturdier than she looks," Elia assured, striding towards Lenore and offering the girl a hand, "...Can you ride a horse, just until we reach shelter?"

Lenore shifted uncomfortably, "It'll do."

One couldn't be picky about their steed with all they knew burning in the distance. Her response was agreeable, and the tarnished whistled sharply, "Call me Elia, what are you known by?"

"...Lenore, why…why did you come here?" she asked, glancing at the spectral steed summoned by the Tarnished.

Elia stooped down to lift the taller yet concerning frail girl, "I was ordered to come here by Gideon Ofnir. From what I understand, these men attacked under his directions to find your village elder, Albus, and the archer Latenna?"

Lenore froze, "...A- A tarnished ordered this?"

Elia nodded grimly in response, her expression apologetic as Lenore was sat atop Torrent

Nepheli was pale, silent and holding herself tightly, " I'm as concerned as you are by that revelation. Did you see the other survivors, lass?"

Lenore bit her lip, "...If you seek Latenna, she lies deeper in the village - Lobo, she lost her steed. Please, show her the same mercy you've shown me."

Elia gingerly squeezed Lenore's hand then, "I will. Stay with Nepheli until I return, alright? I'll find Latenna, and we can all leave this place. Help..help will come for the remaining folk here, but we need more than two lone tarnished to do that."

The sentiment was foreign to Lenore, and the girl slowly nodded as she murmured, "...Thank you."

"Your welcome…I'm sorry this is the most we can do." Elia sighed, stalking off into the ruined village with a sword in hand.

Clawed hands cradled Varre's face, a scarlet eye blinking soft and slow as the omen beheld his servant. Gold ichor still stained Varre's skin, sweat beading down the surgeon's brow in wake of the ritual's strain.

Varre had been on his knees when Mohg finally was lucid enough to speak, "...Thou were more diligent than I expected." The man was silent, head dipped and his skin terribly clammy against Mohg's rough palm. Sighing, Mohg spoke again, "Thou may speak, Varre."

Those eyes widened, and Varre's lips moved and failed to form words until he cleared his throat, murmuring, "I'm pleased to see you alive once more, my lord."

"Tis only due to your effort and craft. How didst thou escape the Tarnished and her pet Valkyrie?" Mohg questioned as he glanced at the shattered mess of the acropolis, "...She stole the empyrean." The omen's tone darkened in realization as he beheld the empty cocoon.

"She did…Miquella was unresponsive to those that remained, nor was I going to conspire with the insidious lot that thought they could succeed your throne." Varre shook his head, "I fled, my lord. Forgive my cowardice."

"It saved thy mind and skills, t'was necessary, and not born of treachery." Mohg's tone softened then, "Tell me, what has transpired since the assault on our home, Varre?"

"...The Erdtree is withered, Altus is currently churning with a cobbled army of tarnished and perfumers under Ofnir's banner, and

Liurnia and Stormveil are headed by Tarnished." Varre exhaled tightly, "...We have an Elden Lord once more."

Mohg's jaw clenched at the revelation, "Who holds the crown?"

"Radagon. Somehow, he endured through the shattering and seems to have taken the Tarnished for a consort… her blood was what annointed your body for revival." Varre tightly clasped his hands together, wincing when Mohg gripped the man's shoulder in a vice.

"Ichor is the lifeblood of the divine. How is a graceless wretch an Elden Lord's consort?" Mohg hissed.

Varre was silent, fearing if one wrong word might be the death of him, "Elia entered Leyndell and left with him in her company…

Something happened between them for her to fill Queen Marika's seat."

Mohg's grip slipped from Varre, the omen's expression stern as he huffed, "It would expected for the hound to be a ravenous and disloyal consort."

"My lord, if you seek restitution from them, and to find Miquella, it will be Liurnia where we will find them together." Varre informed.

Mohg cocked his head then, "One would think Rennala and her celestial ilk would be too sore of a wound for Radagon to comingle with?"

"Its a miraculous thing really - a community seems to have taken root there, and Radagon has collected his brood of demigods in one citadel." Varre whispered, "You are not the only demigod to walk the lands once more. To my understanding, even Morgott was interred there, having made his own attempt on the woman's life already."

Mohg's head snapped towards Varre with singular focus, "...My brother has often consigned himself to anguish by working alone. I merely would have hoped he would have learned by now." The omen rose from the dias, leaning heavily into his trident as he stalked forward, "How soon would thou be prepared to depart, Varre?"

"My Lord- you need rest!" Varre protested with the furious shake of his head, snatching Mohg's sleeve in a rare break of formality. The omen froze, his gaze locked onto his surgeon for a long moment. Varre's pulse roared in his ears, nor did he dare move a muscle.

"Show me to a chamber, Varre. We leave tomorrow at daybreak, someone must compel Morgott to see reason and understand the strength one can only find with family."

"As you wish, sir." Varre murmured, exhaling in relief.

Malenia finally found her father in the village plaza. It was odd to see him out and about in plainclothes, carrying a basket of prawns under his arm as he strolled about. It was even stranger to spot Miquella's golden crown of hair so high, seated not on his father's shoulders, but Elia's.

Malenia stared, brows furrowed and only halted by Millicent snatching her by the arm, earning a heated look from the girl.

"Unhand me." the demigod ground out.

"Cool your head before you make a mountain out of a molehill." Millicent countered, "Is that really how you want to greet your father and brother?"

Malenia grimaced, snatching her arm from Millicent's grip as she muttered, "You are not my keeper, Millicent."

"And you aren't theirs." the girl countered, "Breathe, I'm sure they'll be happy to see you if you don't stomp in with a warpath behind you."

Exhaling tightly, Malenia strode forward, not indulging the girl with a response.

Godwyn half expected Lenore to strike him when he crossed paths with the captain, recognizing her silver visage easily.

The woman crossed her arms and blocked his passage in the hall, eyes narrowed and muttering, "Sellen already lectured you, yes?"

He nodded, "Yes…she did. What of it?"

"Then I take no shame in saying thank you now that someone officially reprimanded you." Lenore's stern demeanor faded as she stepped forward, clapping the shorter man's shoulders with a wry smile, "You've thrown us into a hell of a mess though,

Godwyn."

"I know. The bastard still deserved death." The prince muttered, raising his gaze to the alninuaric with a shakey exhale, "He was a blight to your people."

Lenore dipped her head, "...I know, I saw it with my own eyes."

Godwyn paused, "...Elaborate - you mean the destruction of your village?"

"I mean I was nearly tossed into a pyre and lost my leg." Lenore replied flatly, "Walk with me, your sentiments are appreciated, but there is more you should know about our circumstances if you'll be living here for a while yet." "It is dangerously easy to consider this place home." Godwyn murmured as he followed after her.

"...The omen already established a home, you intend to do the same?" Lenore asked, casting a glance over her shoulder towards the demigod.

"The omen has a name, Lenore." Godwyn reminded, "I do. My family is here, and I go where they go."

"...Sorry." Lenore exhaled tightly, "Morgott, is…is he adjusting?"

"You don't have to speak of him, you have a fair reason to dislike him." Godwyn relented, "Just don't diminish him, please."

"I can't ignore the family of my friend." Lenore said, the admission making Godwyn pause for a moment. He hadn't reflected much on his relations with Raya Lucaria's inhabitants, they were amicable and pleasant, and yet so easily they receded to the background of his thoughts. How easily had Godwyn been embroiled with his siblings and immediate companions?

He swallowed hard, and murmured, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Lenore replied, sending him a curious look, "Are you alright?"

"...I've been absent in my friendships here, haven't I-" Lenore's knuckles tapped his brow then.

"Stop that. You're fine, just terribly self righteous at times." she chided, "Stars, you sooner need a drink than another lecture."

Godwyn blinked once, then twice at the suggestion, brows raised as he stared at the woman, "I…alright?"

"Tell me, when was the last time you decompressed and weren't tending to your siblings?" Lenore pressed, hands on her hips with a scolding tone.

Godwyn winced at the realization, "I've been responsible for at least one sibling since I reunited with Miquella."

"That makes it four months, at least." Lenore deadpanned, "You're drinking with me, or doing anything before we're up to our knees in another crisis." "Lead on then, captain."

Elia heard Malenia's armor before she saw the woman, and her gut twisted as she turned with Miquella still atop her shoulders.

Radagon was the first to speak in hopes of dispelling the tension, "Malenia, was the trip from Mount Gelmir peaceful?"

Malenia furrowed her brows, "Yes, the high point was Millicent gorging herself on Sellian wine, much to Rykard's annoyance and Radahn's amusement."

Millicent's expression soured, and she hurried over towards Elia as the woman set down Miquella - pulling Millicent into a tight embrace. The girl wheezed at elia's grip and muttered, "W-What happened while we were away, the town wasn't fortified like this when we left?"

"Godwyn and Morgott hatched a plot to assassinate Gideon Ofnir, spawned a potential war, and we had the lovely task of sealing the three fingers. Ee settled out business in Leyndell, but encountered Gideon and then Godwyn in the act of discpatching the man. As a result Lenore and Sellen have to prepare the town for any possible hostility. Gideon did amass a small army in Altus before he died." Elia grimaced, "I'm glad your week was a calmer affair."

Millicent paled, "I knew I should have accompanied you."

"We're safe, nor would I want to see you that close to yet another outer god's reach." Elia countered as she withdrew, "...Did you have any progress in your training?"

Millicent glanced to Malenia, "It was insightful, and the General had his own recommendations to employ magic into combat."

"She's unbalanced and still learning to compensate for her prosthetic, imitating the waterfowl dance isn't enough to make her a formidable warrior." Malenia replied.

Elia tensed, wrapping an arm around Millicent's shoulder, "None of us will surpass you anytime soon, Malenia. However, I did have a proposition for you." In an effort to shift the tense dialogue, she stepped forward, keen to heed Miquella's earlier advice as she spoke, "You wanted a duel, no?"

Malenia was taken back, brows raised and a faint smile blooming at the prospect of a fight, "That I did, are you finally brave enough to try?"

"I've mustered up enough courage or stupidity to try again." Elia countered, "Meet me in the courtyard in an hour, bring your sword."

Radagon bristled at the idea, gripping Elia's waist as he whispered, "Is that truly a good idea?"

Elia sighed and patted the back of his hand with a nod, "I'm not made of glass, but…referee the match if you'd rather keep an eye on things." Radagon grunted in acceptance as the twins exchanged looks of equal confusion.

"I'll be waiting," Malenia announced before offering a hand for Miquella to take. The boy paused, muttering, "I'll be there to spectate, Malenia."

The air turned frigid for a moment, the quiet refusal leaving Malenia momentarily stunned before her hand dropped to her side, "Oh. I see."

Without another word, Malenia turned on her heel and departed.

The four were left in an awkward silence thereafter, until Millicent gave voice to the elephant in the room.

"When did Miquella begin shadowing you two like a duckling?" Millicent sighed, arms crossed and her expression one of weary exasperation.

"...Ever since we left for Volcano Manor, I think." Elia confessed, wincing as she sent the boy an apologetic look.

"Am I not allowed to be with my parents?" Miquella huffed, "...I wasn't trying to snub her. I really wasn't."

"I think it's best if we explain our circumstances plainly and let her express her acceptance or rage without judgment." Radagon sighed, "This was never going to be pleasant, and you aren't a perpetual child for her to protect any longer." Millicent froze, whispering, "I beg your pardon?" "Shite." Radagon held his face with a groan.

Elia hadn't quite processed their words, still hung up on Miquella's statement as she stared at the boy, "...Repeat that?"

"Repeat what - oh." Miquella quickly looked aside, "Its nothing! Don't make a spectacle of it-"

Elia gingerly lifted him, pressing a brief kiss to his brow before setting him down, "Love you too."

Miquella simply stared at Elia in bewilderment, unsure how to respond to that degree of affection. He rubbed his brow with a huff, muttering back, "Mother hen."

Meanwhile, Millicent could only stare at the sky and implore whatever god there was to give her an explanation.

Interlude: Loretta

Ephael was a dusty ruin, quiet as a tomb and stripped of its grace as a temple. Thrice now in recent times, its halls had been breached. First by Boyana, then by Radagon, and finally by Gideon Ofnir.

Boyana had been the first intruder to necessitate intervention in Loretta's experience. The girl had in her hands a pilfered medallion, and a rotting girl in her company bearing Malenia's likeness. Neither could be allowed to trespass on sacred ground.

In the misty grove, Loretta had seen them approach from atop her horse, halberd in hand and her eyes narrowing in apprehension. Hefting her lance, the woman was poised between the women and gate to Ephael, her voice a sharp and booming note, "Halt!"

Surprisingly, the Tarnished heeded her command, hand raised and calling out, "We haven't come as plunderers!" A low scoff left the knight captain, her silence was enough to voice her apprehension.

Then the girl reached into her saddlebags, earning a warning sound from Loretta, "Yours are the words of every despot and craven hoping to sunder what grace is left of our home. Keep your hands where they can be seen, or lose them, Tarnished?"

Elia grimaced, hastily raising the medallion in response, "As you wish - but understand I come here with the consent of Albus and Latenna! I am not your enemy, ma'am."

Slowly, as gradually as the tide receded, did Loretta lower her lance, beckoning her horse forward with a gruff command, "Drop your weapons, if you truly lack any hostile intent."

Excorio and Lacero were quickly cast at Loretta's feet, and the rotting maiden was the one to hesitate, only casting her blade aside when Elia murmured, "Do it, Millicent, we'd be mincemeat regardless at this proximity."

Pragmatism won, and Millicent tossed her blade down with a sour look, watching Loretta like a hawk as she kept close to Elia.

The medallion was then presented, placed in Loretta's outstretched hand.

Moments passed by at a sluggish crawl as the knight examined the relic, silent and grim before she hissed, "What became of them, to surrender the halves to a graceless Tarnished?"

"...The village was attacked by Gideon Ofnir, I came upon the wreckage with a companion of mine to rescue what survivors we could. I was pursuing Miquella, and would have asked for the medallion or bartered if necessary, but I never would have foreseen genocide being Gideon's method to force Albus' concession."

Loretta's lance jutted forward, lifting Elia's chin as the knight leaned in, her voice carrying a metallic reverb from within her helm,

"Those events are terribly convenient in their end result for you, are they not?"

Steeling herself with a jagged breath, Elia ground out, "I did not fight an omen killer or rescue Lenore to cover my tracks, they were necessary steps to save what little remained, and to find a cure for Millicent's rot."

"If no salvation was found for Lady Malenia, why do you hope one lays here for your companion?"

"I have to try, see with my own eyes and find what became of Miquella." Elia grimaced, "Well, will you kill me here, or let me through?"

"There is nothing for you here, Tarnished." Loretta hissed, "Return to Liurnia if you are so endeared to the plight of my people." "Why stay here, if there is nothing to be had?" Elia pressed.

"...Miquella is gone, child. All the same, my oath remains to protect the Haligtree and Lady Malenia's rich slumber." Loretta sighed, "Lenore, what became of her? Did Latenna and Albus survive?"

"Lenore… her legs were crippled. We resorted to prosthetics to assist her mobility when infection would only continue to plague them." Elia sighed, "Latenna, half of her died with Lobo I think, it was a bargain that we struck, to keep her ashes with me if I would guard her half of the medallion from Ofnir. She…she's saved my hide many times in battle since then." "Albus is dead, isn't he." Loretta's tone was one of grim finality.

Elia nodded, "His mind went first, then his body. It…it wasn't a peaceful end for him. I'm sorry."

"Platitudes are kind words, yet what is done is done." Loretta shook her head, "These are my terms. Present yourself to Malenia if you so wish, yet you are not to harm a soul that remains here, am I clear?"

"Clear as day, ma'am." Elia nodded.

"...My protection does not extend to the four rotten flowers that already slipped through, however." Loretta nodded to Millicent, the girl's face growing pale.

"My sisters…what business would draw them out of Caelid?" Millicent whispered.

"I know not, yet I entrust the task of dealing with them unto you both." Loretta said, turning to depart as she raised the amulet high before the twin statues.

As stone began to grind and shift, the gates of Ephael were cast open.

Loretta's ire had bloomed when she saw the spores of the aeonia scattering upon the wind. Those had been the first warning shots that something had gone awry, and she cursed her fickle sentimentality to let a Tarnished through on goodwill alone. As expected, the Tarnished intended to depart the way she had come, through the gates.

Elia was a battered sighed of scuffed armor and red staining her form and face. In her arms was Millicent, the valkyrie's face inflamed with the spreading scarlet rot and several healing wounds littering the girl's arms and legs. The tarnished halted her stride when she saw Loretta armed and blocking her exit.

Dread was clear on Elia's face, and she ground out, "Malenia offered little chance to negotiate or plead our case."

"You… did you fight her and flee?" Loretta ground out, "Do you realize the risks of the woman blooming!"

"She's dead." Elia replied evenly, "Or left in whatever state she will be within that flower. I didn't want this - yet she looked at

Millicent as an infection to be excised. She asked for violence and received it."

"Draw your blade." Loretta ordered, giving Elia the courtesy to brace herself for death.

"No." she hissed, "No one else dies today - there have already been five unecessarily slain under the refuge Miquella wanted for you all!"

Loretta charged.

Elia was forced to leap aside, all but tossing Millicent aside towards the fringes of the battlefield as she drew her swords. The stance she assumed mirror Malenia's, an imitation of a deadly dance as Elia drew Excorio defensively across her form in warning. She would not die quietly to sate the albinuaric's fury.

Loretta would have none of it, charging forward with a wide sweep of the lance in a deadly arc. Lacero scraped against the metal with an ear splitting grind, and in a sharp motion Elia severed the shaft of the pole arm with Excorio. The strike made Lenore recoil, and a sudden kick struck Elia across the jaw.

The leg was a lame and weak limb, it was sooner the rigidity of Loretta's boot that sent Elia staggered back as she held her face, and the knight could only shake her head at the Tarnished.

"...You're far from the warrior that Rami was." Loretta muttered, remembering her former compatriot well, "Spat out by our nation,

Rennala reduced to a simpering display of grief, why did you return here?"

Elia worked her jaw with a shuddering exhale, the throb overtaking her focus for several moments before she spoke, "...It's still my home just as there are still those that need me to persist. Is that not why you took up the mantle of unalloyed gold and never left, even when you've seen an institution fail?"

"Liurnia reviled my people, turned on us like the wind when Rennala faltered. Vallis was put to the torch, and we fled further into obscurity. What options did I have, if not to persist and protect the one pair of demigods not clawing for glory or vengeance?!

Now you've slain one and the other still lies missing and adrift in the world!"

"Then find him!" Elia hissed, "Or I will and shall solve this mess one way or another! Perhaps he'll hate me for what it took to find him, I cannot control that or do I care to. I want this blighted world to function once more, and I want my companions to have a chance for a future. Do you not wish the same for the albinuarics?"

Loretta grimaced, "...Begone from this place, Elia."

"...There is a place in Liurnia for you, for any albinuaric or wayward soul that needs shelter. Lenore would welcome her kin."

"An idealistic girl deserves more than failed knights to inspire her. Go home, for you have outstayed your welcome within mine."

Elia dipped her head, "Very well."

Radagon was the next trespasser.

His entry was a quick and sudden one, gold lighting and the brute force of the hammer prying open the gates into the city. Loretta didn't pursue, the remaining inhabitants, some dozen albinarics, a handful of omens, and many stagnant victims of the rot were compelled to hide within the lower catacombs. Out of sight and out of mind, Radagon was not an invader who sought out blood.

He had come for Malenia.

The Aeonia had lain undisturbed, a potentially volatile thing best left alone and untouched. To force it to bloom could reduce the Haligtree into another waste like Caelid. Reverence too compelled them to not disturb Miquella's cradle or the resting place of the Malenia. Only Radagon had the bravado to approach….and to their surprise, he did not depart this city alone.

Loretta cursed her inaction, yet lacked the spine to approach her lady, or to test the patience of an Elden Lord. Yet his appearance sparked curiosity, and finally compelled Loretta to scout beyond the walls of Ephael to witness what had become of the Haligtree.

Miquella had not returned, yet if an Elden Lord of yore walked the lands…something must have transpired. Did Elia finally find success in her journey?

When Loretta reached the outskirts of the province, she could only remove her helm and pray her eyes weren't failing her. To her grim realization, they had not.

Listing heavily, its branches thinned and leafless, the Erdtree lay gray and bare beneath the waning sun. Much like a carcass, it had been bleached under the light of day, its golden glow stripped. And yet, the sky had not fallen, the frenzied flame hadn't ravaged the land… fire had truly consumed the tree, and the world still continued to turn upon its axis.

Loretta was quick to return and gather the inhabitants together.

Most were reluctant to leave, and she was among that lot. Yet a brave few, omenborn and those afflicted by rot saw another route. To hope that salvation may be found in the absence of the Erdtree's fickle grace, to consort with whatever power remained.

Loretta sent them to Liurnia, it would be best that they find shelter in a fortified citadel. Despite its history, Raya Lucaria would be a safe haven if it was governed by the proper people.

It should have been the end of any interference, and quiet days spent repairing Ephael's walls and gate that awaited Loretta.

In a final bid to torment her, another Tarnished trespassed into the city. He was not a peaceful sort. Gideon Ofnir lived up to the expectations set forth by Elia, aided by perfumers and omenkillers. It would be Loretta's task alone to cut down the entourage, and send Ofnir out by force.

Ofnir left Ephael battered and beaten with half of his entourage slain. Loretta had lost her horse by the end of it, limping back towards shelter as she licked her wounds.

The signs were clear. Ephael was no longer secure, and it was time to leave.

Waning Respite

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Godfrey swore at the ache in his knees as he heaved his axe from where it lay embedded in the chest of a tarnished. The man had expected a quiet journey from Leyndell, back to his secluded cabin to gather his wits and prepare for whatever came next.

Instead he was greeted with the first rains of spring, muddied roads bogged by snowmelt, and roving bands of scouts sprouting like daisies. He knew the sight well, he has stumbled upon the fringes of a moving army. That was never a good thing to find, much less to be dwarfed by.

Alone, armed with a hatchet and crossing south into Liurnia, he could gauge that the increasing encounters positioned the army near the celestial nation. Godfrey's hideaway would likely no longer be viable, one couldn't expect to quietly hunt in a forest if an army squatted in the vicinity.

Twas a poor time to finally feel his age, yet regardless, he would soldier on.

It was strange to imagine Radagon had once waged a war, and then ruled these lands. From the pristine lakes, to bogs that had once been wealthy in their harvests, and verdant forests rich with wild game, Liurnia was a lovely country. Godfrey had never truly been given the chance to witness its beauty. Marika had tasked him one with a survey of Radagon's army and the conjoined forces of Caria and the Erdtree, and he had deemed both to be sufficient despite the relative tension surrounding the royal marriage.

Godfrey wished he had been given more time to wish the man well, yet other battles called, and Marika was in dire need of his presence.

One could only wonder what war was brewing in these lands, with a defunct academy and rabble of Tarnished, the contenders at play were little more than a mystery to him.

Godfrey simply prayed wherever he was going would have a warm fire and a drink after this shite journey.

Godwyn wheezed at the burn of homebrewed whiskey, squinting at Lenore through watery eyes as he hissed, "Woman, is this sooner going to be antiseptic for your medics!?"

"Oh, is it too hard compared to the fancy wines you would drink in Leyndell?" the captain grinned, amusement flashing in her eyes as Godwyn set aside his mug.

"I don't drink simply to strip my throat raw." The prince muttered, "Please tell me that isn't all you brought?" Godwyn asked as he slumped back into his chair. They were seated within a quiet nook of Rogier's inn, the dining hall seeming to be a popular neck of town for transient or permanent residents.

"We have ciders," Lenore snorted, "Poor thing, you have such a dainty palette."

"Do all albinuarics have a taste for caustic substances, or are you simply a connoisseur of poisons and acids mistaken for beverages?"

That drew a sharp barking laugh from Lenore, the woman shaking her head, "No, I simply found what I liked very quickly once I arrived here."

"You didn't brew your own alcohol in the village?"

"It wasn't something we partook in, or had the agriculture to support. We hunted and fished to keep ourselves fed." Lenore replied as she nursed her drink, "The first time I tasted wine was within Raya Lucaria in the early months of migrating here."

"...What was that process like? The Carian's turned on your people no, and the Golden Order offered no respite even after they cemented control over the province." Godwyn mused, "Is there an irony in finding a home here?"

"Oh, absolutely." Lenore nodded, "Even more so with Elia being the one to bring us here. She was spat out as much as we were. It isn't lost on me that I walk the same halls where my folk were likely dissected and studied with the same clinical curiosity as one would gut an omen or misbegotten. Times have changed, and anyone with half a mind to do such a thing would be short a set of hands as well as a head shorter."

Godwyn swallowed hard, "Noted. Elia enforced a very harsh set of guidelines to keep the peace?"

"Sellen did." Lenore corrected, "Elia couldn't afford to be idle, and I couldn't accompany her consistently even when I finally had use of my prosthetics. Day to day governance fell to us as some of the few people here capable of refereeing the refugees and merchants settling here, even then our numbers were much smaller. There were less than two hundred souls here when Elia returned with Radagon on her arm." Her expression soured a bit to reflect on that strange time, housing an Elden Lord and reckoning with her friend's apotheosis, "We only properly needed outbuildings when the Academy was being used as a school once more and housing needed to be addressed. Until then, we were squatting in the academy's dormitories."

"It's as fortified as any castle, it made sense when you lacked the manpower to control the floodwaters overtaking the old village grounds."

"It did, yet it's nice to have a proper house and my own bed. It feels permanent…nothing felt truly established until Elia came back from Leyndell. One battle gone wrong, another incident with Morgott, it would have been for nothing and we would be at the mercy of whatever despot came next." Lenore muttered, sending Godwyn a heavy look, "Did you witness much in your…in your state of undeath? Anything that told of the destruction from the shattering?"

Godwyn clenched his fists, his stomach twisting as he shook his head, "...My soul was gone, and my soul dispelled or cast unto whatever voidsent pit destined death banished me to. The only lucidity I held was when Fia and Elia reconstituted the curse mark. …From there, it was a slow march towards coherent thought. I was anchored within the turbulent dreams Fia suffered… Fortissax was foisted upon her mind as a result, and it fell to Elia to slay that blighted remembrance." His voice thickened, that was not an easy memory to dwell upon. "Lenore, I was a spectator in my own flesh for months. Day by day, straining to move, to be of any use at all. I would have seen Fia die and be useless to help her if she had been unguarded. Many ashes had been left by Elia to keep the woman safe, and it was months of idle dreaming until I had the strength to leave my corpse." Godwyn murmured.

"...You came into this world helpless and unknowing." Lenore grimaced, "I'm sorry…that wasn't a topic to pry into lightly.

"You are the first to properly ask, it's fine." Godwyn sighed, "...I still find it a miracle that I didn't eviscerate Ranni on sight for what she put me through."

"Have you forgiven her?" Lenore asked.

"No. I don't think that will ever be the case. I can move forward however." Godwyn exhaled tightly, "I have a bride, my blood brother, companions I can trust… that was more than what I possessed even in life. Undeath could have done so much worse to me."

Lenore reached out to clasp his shoulder, "We're grateful to have you amongst the living here. Don't lose yourself in Nokron, please?"

"I won't. I'll employ their help, yet I've lain below the dirt too long as a corpse. I'm staying." Godwyn confessed.

It was still a novelty to walk the markets without open contention, Morgott realized, uncloaked and leaning into his staff as he walked about with Melina to his left. The girl was on her feet once more, her sickness behind her and healthy enough to leave the warmth of the cabin.

The task of properly showing Melina around the common areas of town fell to Morgott it seemed. Godwyn was otherwise occupied, Elia seemed to be mired in some debacle with the twins from what he and Melina had observed, keen enough to give her entourage their space to handle their affairs in peace.

Morgott was unsure if silence was characteristic of Melina or not, and cleared his throat to dispel the foreboding quiet between them, "...Hast thou been introduced to Boggart yet?"

Melina blinked, shaking her head, "No, I haven't seen much of the townsfolk yet really…"

Morgott waved for her to follow, "Come, he's an agreeable man." "When do you find others agreeable?" Melina muttered.

"He was the first to ensure I had a proper meal and was housed within the village. I find decent folk hospitable, despite what our history may compel thee to assume of me." Morgott deadpanned. Melina dipped her head and muttered a quick apology.

"Thou were never so meek when fighting me, is civility such a terrifying concept?" He muttered.

"It's strange." Melina murmured.

"It is, yet we adapt." Morgott sighed, "Come, meet my favored fishmonger."

They could smell Boggart's stall before seeing it. Melina never quite shared Elia's love for fish and bit her tongue to refrain from gagging at the ripe scent of shrimp, crab, and brine. Morgott paid the scents no mind, calling over, "Will prawns ever not be in season, Boggart?"

"The day I stop selling prawns is the day I see Queen Marika in the flesh," The fishmonger laughed, waving Morgott closer, "How have you been, my friend? Word on the town tells me that you and your brother got your hands dirty killing some bloke. What happened?"

"...Gideon Ofnir was squatting in Altus with the same ilk who slew the albinuarics and omens for sport. We wanted a poison like him to be excised." Morgott rasped, the disdain in his tone making Boggart pause.

"I pity anyone unfortunate enough to earn your ire. They rarely survive." Boggart murmured, more venom creeping into his tone than intended.

"...I never apologized for the grief I caused, did I?" Morgott shook his head, "Boggart?"

"It's not my score to settle, but no, you didn't. It was a more pressing issue of keeping you from getting yourself killed." Boggart sighed.

"I am… I do regret my actions from that night." Morgott whispered, "It shall not be repeated."

"Good, I don't want to choose between my friends, yet I will if forced." Boggart warned, "Are you here for prawns?"

"...I am, as well as to introduce an acquaintance." Morgott waved to Melina, the girl pausing at the title. She gave Boggart a polite wave, "Elia's mentioned you before."

"Only positive things have been passed along, I hope?" Boggart's smile was a wry thing, "You're her maiden, Melina?"

It never seemed to have crossed Melina's mind that Elia would speak of her amongst her companions beyond Sellen, Fia and Millicent. Boggart's smile eased as he spoke, "Word gets around quick with how many folk bumped into Elia. I'm surprised we never met sooner."

The silence that wore on was heavy, and Melina muttered, "...I was gone for a long time after the Erdtree burned, hence my absence."

The fishmonger nodded, "That's understandable, setting fire to the tree wasn't an easy task."

Melina shook her head, "No..no it was not."

Morgott shifted uncomfortably as she spoke, muttering, "Was I even cold before Elia broke Radagon's seal?"

The maiden flinched, "...Time was of the essence. Yes, we did move quickly after you were slain."

Boggart kept quiet, curious to hear just what had transpired behind the scenes in Leyndell. Morgott kept his gaze focused on Melina, steeling himself with a long sigh, "Tell me what happened, I won't be upset by events long since past." "You swear it?" Melina asked, brows raised at Morgott.

"I do, have I been one to renege upon my word in the brief time that we have not been enemies?" Morgott deadpanned, to which Melina relented with the shake of her head. Boggart pointedly nodded to the bench behind his stall as he moved to sit atop a barrel, correctly assuming that this wouldn't be a short story.

Morgott's rasping words held Elia like a vice. Dripping with dread and lament, the omen's frail body moved with the waning strength he still possessed to speak. Elia's hands trembled, gripping Excorio and Lacero in a white knuckled grip as each word from Morgott's lips felt like a nail being driven into her coffin.

"...Does thou not see, we… we all forsaken." Morgott expired with a rattling breath, and Elia bolted towards the stairs with her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her heart stopped at the sight of familiar latticework. Thick and thorned roots laced the doors of the Erdtree in an inescapable vice. Lacero's edge uselessly scraped into roots that were too quick to heal, and thorns chipped the edge of the blade with indescribable ease.

Elia's fist slammed against the door with a frustrated yell, her hand came away bloodied and stinging before Melina caught her by the arm.

"My friend, stop this." the maiden pleaded, her voice too calm, too certain in her next words as Elia grimaced.

"...Melina?" Elia whispered, letting her bloodied hand fall to her side as she turned away from the doors.

"Walk with me… it does you no service to despair, Elia." Melina tugged on her wrist, leading the Tarnished away from the tree and Morgott's corpse. They left the throne room itself, retreating into the quiet sanctuary of Marika's bedchamber.

"Millicent is as good as dead if that tree remains sealed." Elia murmured, "Unless Radagon was so kind as to leave us a key, he's doomed us to stagnation."

"...The Erdtree obstructed your path, yet not even the Golden Order could declaw every tool to assault the Erdtree. Many flames may burn it, and the safest of them lies in the hands of the Giants, his first conquest." Melina instructed, "Fate compels us to travel there one last time."

Elia blinked, "Melina, what do you mean by that?"

"Every fire requires kindling. I know this, Vyke also knew it and succumbed to the madness of the Frenzied Flame. We must do what he could not, and offer a sacrifice to wield the flame. A maiden must be offered."

Elia shook her head, "Absolutely not-"

"Then Millicent dies. Fia will slumber in perpetuity with Godwyn. Hewg will have smithed your bladea for nothing." Melina pressed, "Does one life overrule those efforts, overrule your future?"

"My future has already been paid in blood for these runes! I won't have yours on my hands." Elia protested, "D-Don't ask this of me, please."

"I wouldn't if there were other options." Melina murmured, "This world is a fractured yet beautiful thing. One worth saving with those I trust to usher it into a future better than the stagnation it has suffered for centuries."

Elia wrung her wrists, silent and unable to find a rebuttal. Melina continued, her gaze intense as she reached for her friend's hands. Burned scars were rough against Elia's soft hands.

"Sellen is depending on you to succeed, Rennala needs you to maintain her stability in the world without her children and consort, Fia will want to awaken to the sight of a friend. You shan't be alone after I die." Melina whispered, her tone pleading as Elia refused to meet her gaze.

"Let me go and move forward. Tis all I ask of you."

Elia pressed her face to Melina's shoulder then, embracing the maiden tightly in silence.

Melina's throat tightened, straining to remain corporeal under Elia's hold until she dared to embrace her companion in return.

Elia spoke softly then, "...I won't fail you, or them."

"I never thought that you would." Melina exhaled tightly, "You've proven that ever since you refused to die when you were thrown

from a cliff."

A weak laugh left Elia then, strained and fragile as she muttered, "A stellar first impression, I know."

Neither were quick to separate, yet Melina's strength finally snapped, and Elia fell through naught else but air. With a low groan Elia muttered, "...Its back to the snowfields, isn't it?"

"It is," Melina winced, rising to her feet as Elia reluctantly stood, "Shall we make camp and depart by morning?"

Elia shook her head, "...Not here, not in Leyndell. This city is fit for nothing else but ghosts and dead gods."

Chapter End Notes

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Eye for an Eye, Tooth for a Tooth

Radagon walked in stride with Elia, sweat beading down his brow as they neared the training yards, "You aren't obligated to indulge Malenia's ire, remember that."

"If she keeps stewing, her anger becomes everyone's problem." Elia muttered, "Blunted swords, armor, and warding sigils to limit the chance of any contact between a blade and flesh. Have I missed a procedure you'd recommend?"

Radagon swore under his breath, conceding with a terse, "No. I still dislike it."

"As do I, but can you deny that this is the most effective way to engage with her?"

Radagon sent Elia a lingering look, "I won't deny that, yet I implore to proceed with caution."

She clasped his hand tightly, "Hence why I have you as a referee, I trust your eyes to spot if anything is awry." He pressed a kiss to her brow, saying little else as she stepped into the ring.

Malenia didn't keep them waiting for long, stalking out with her sword drawn and helmet on was she approached the ring. A passing glance was sent towards Radagon before the demigod frowned, "Why is my father here, Elia?"

Elia swallowed thickly, "He's here to referee the match. We strike until first blood, with blunted blades and in full armor. Are those terms acceptable?"

Malenia grimaced, "Is immortality not enough of a safeguard?"

"Considering how far Morgott could dole out pain despite that fact, no it is not." Elia flatly replied, "This is a duel, not a chance for us to bludgeon each other into red mist."

"Very well," Malenia shifted her grip on the blade, extending it to Elia expectantly.

The cantrip was a simple string of words, and gold pulsed over the edges of Malenia's blade just as it gleamed over Excorio and Lacero like a shimmering membrane. Swiftly, the blade left Elia's hands, and Malenia took position at the opposing end of the ring as she fell into her typical stance.

"This will be a battle of swordplay alone and strength, none of your magic and none of my rot." Malenia informed.

"Correct." Elia nodded, bracing herself as she assumed her stance.

"Begin." Radagon said, stern and impassive as he crossed his arms.

Malenia lunged as fast as a viper.

The katana sheared off several inches of Elia's braid, whistling past her ear with deadly proximity. Anger flashed across Elia's eyes then, cold and focused as she darted forward.

Excorio and Lacero were crossed over Malenia's forearm, locking the woman and jerking her forward with a rough tug as Elia headbutted the demigod in similar fashion to Radagon.

The strike made the man wince as he held his nose at the memory, and Malenia struck Elia harshly across the jaw and swept out the Tarnished's legs with a smooth kick before retreating back. Radagon expected a signal, anything to intervene.

Elia gave none, quick to roll away and hop to her feet with a healing jaw. Malenia circled her as a vulture, eyes wide and a smug look brewing, "That struck a nerve."

"You'll leave this ring with a sheared head if you pull that stunt again." Elia hissed, drawing Lacero over her stomach defensively.

That drew a laugh from Malenia, sharp and biting as acid.

"Oh, you're almost endearing when you posture. The moralizing speeches are a much better front to hide behind, Elia." Malenia's next strike was a jab at the scored and well weathered breastplate of her opponent.

Slippery as an eel, Elia dove, rolling between Malenia's legs and suddenly behind the woman.

Instead of a stab, it was a harsh yank of Malenia's hair that pulled the demigod into a chokehold. Elia had dropped her swords, displaying surprising strength to keep Malenia pinned with her legs locked around the woman's waist. The barbed gauntlets of Elia's armor were cold and scraped against Malenia's throat as she writhed, "U-Unhand me! Is this not a duel or are you content to brawl as a lowborn thug!?"

"I'll cross blades with you when you quit acting like the pompous shite you've been since we met." Elia ground out, straining to keep her grip on the woman as she gnashed her teeth, "One woman already degraded and neglected you, I'm not looking to repeat Marika's actions towards you. Nor am I your mother."

"Nor are you Miquella's!" Malenia snapped her head back, and Elia felt the wetness of blood running down her face before the stinging crunch of bone. Dazed and her hold slackening, Elia was foisted off of Malenia and kicked away to clear several feet of distance between the women.

"My father may have chosen you in a moment of weakness, yet you're little more than a gnat that happened to exist at the right place and at the proper time for him to use, am I wrong-" Malenia was silenced by Lacero being thrown forward.

Elia had serviceable aim and she held her face with a long, suffering sigh, "Will that shut you up for a minute and let me explain?!"

Malenia had narrowly sidestepped a sword aimed for her eye, pale and feeling her cheek. Her palm came away damp with blood, and she felt the jagged cut of shorn locks. Miquella was white in the face, tensed and wringing his wrists as he fought the urge to run towards his sister in aid.

Radagon stepped into the ring between them, "This has gone far enough-"

"No- we're finishing this!" Malenia hissed, shoving past her father with murder in her eyes.

Elia brandished Excorio, "Let her sate her anger, Radagon. You said it yourself."

Radagon sharply grabbed Malenia's arm in warning, "You do not speak for me regarding who I chose. Don't speak such filth again." Malenia said nothing as her voice died in her throat, managing a stiff nod before she was released and Radagon stepped aside.

"Signal when you're ready." Elia ordered, eyes narrowed and her tone stern as she gripped Excorio in both hands.

Malenia stiffly nodded, "Begin."

Miquella held his face, "This was a horrible idea."

"Maybe. Maybe they would have been at each other's throats mere days later if things were this heated," Millicent murmured, keeping a sharp eye on Malenia's erratic movements, "...Is she right?"

Miquella shook his head, "She…She doesn't get to speak for me, be angry that I took someone's affection on my own terms." the boy muttered.

"She doesn't, but she needs to hear that from you when she walks out of that ring." Millicent murmured, gingerly offering Miquella a hand.

"I'm sorry." he sighed, taking the offered hand and watching the fight unfold.

Down a sword and her pulse racing, Elia fared surprisingly well against Malenia in the minutes that ensued. Excorio shuddered and strained as it remained locked with Malenia's katana, the shorter Tarnished and taller Demigod eyeing one another with intensifying disdain.

"Yield. Your arms are trembling." Malenia grimaced, "Father will hound me for straining his bride-"

"Shut. up." Elia hissed, stressing each word like a jab. She then pushed against Malenia to kick her harshly in the stomach.

Taunts had done little to endear Elia to the notion of a clean and polite duel.

No, decorum had all but dissolved when Elia had been likened to an opportunistic parasite.

As Malenia tried to correct her stance, a forceful kick to the knee from Elia sent the gears and mechanisms of the woman's prosthetic to grind and jam. Metal on metal screeched and the leg was locked. A quick sweep of Elia's leg sent the woman tumbling to the dirt. Excorio was jabbed harshly into the soil.

Millimeters from Malenia's neck, the blade stood impaled into the ground. The Valkryie was immobile with a damaged leg and a boot braced against her sternum. Against the midday sun, Elia was but a looming silhouette, and Malenia didn't so much as breathe until Elia spoke.

"We're done here." she grabbed her sword and stalked off of the grounds.

Radagon moved to approach, only for Elia to mutter, "Don't - I'd like some time alone, please."

"...Very well. We'll discuss this tonight?"

She nodded, "We will."

With that, Elia collected her swords and departed from the ring.

Malenia had found the woman's limit, and had been bitten harshly for that misstep.

The Long March

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Hair grows back.

Elia recalled the labor it had been, between fighting Demigods and half mad miscreants or monsters, to grow her hair from the choppy mess it had been around her shoulders into the long braid that fell to her hips.

One swing had undone months of progress and cleaved Elia's hair to the small of her back.

It wasn't worth tears, and Elia only scowled as she trimmed the uneven ends, brows furrowed and swearing under her breath. Seated on the rim of the bathtub, Elia had been quick to remove herself from prying eyes, fuming and unsure if she held any patience after that incident.

An obscure Knossian tradition likely hadn't been on Malenia's mind, yet shearing hair held a simple and near universal attack on the subject's vanity or pride. Given the braids and long hair much of the demigods sported, it was a point of pride and beauty to all save for Godrick.

It was an action meant with malice, and that was enough for Elia to wash her hands of the girl.

Hair would always grow back, patience was another matter entirely.

Malenia winced as Radagon popped her knee back into place, finally allowing the prosthetic its full range of motion once more.

"It was stupid to goad her." He chided, sending Malenia a scathing look, "What were you thinking? That she would be in over her head and you could settle this petty score?"

She said nothing, head dipped and not meeting her father's eyes. It was Miquella who spoke, "...you never fight dirty, where did that come from?"

"Don't be daft." Malenia snapped on instinct, her tone biting and sharp.

Miquella dug in his heels, "Answer me. I know you aren't a brute - what could be rattling you that you cannot say to my face,

Malenia?"

"...I leave you for a week, and suddenly that woman manages to adopt you. Is your affection so easily won, did I fail you somehow?" Malenia muttered.

"No, you never failed me. You're not my only family besides father though, and Elia isn't meant to take the brunt of your ire."

Miquella pleaded, "I suggested she fight you to clear the air, not to be heckled and tormented!"

"She thinks she knows of my life, of Marika's actions and neglect- If she wants peace the woman can learn to not pry where she doesn't belong." Malenia grimaced.

"You seem keen to ensure she never feels as if she has a place, with what words you threw at her." Radagon countered, "Does it bother you that the dynamics of our family changed?"

Malenia grew quiet, shifting uncomfortably at the question, "...and If I confess that I do disagree with your choice of a consort?"

"You'll receive the same patience I have for Rykard's judgment. None." Radagon replied flatly, "You reside in her home, tell me how wise it is to wage a petty war under her roof and amongst her allies. Shall I recount them to you?" "Spare me." Malenia replied flatly.

"Godwyn, Radahn, Rennala, our father, and me." Miquella interjected, "To list a few. Think carefully about how many bridges we can afford to burn as a family. Was the Shattering not due to how divided and petty our divisions became by the end of Marika's miserable life?"

"What are you asking of me, Miquella?" Malenia whispered.

"Be civil, and understand we have a family to lean upon rather than just one another now." Miquella murmured.

"That is a difficult request to fulfill." Malenia murmured.

"We don't ask you to try it alone. Lean on us, but we can't be of help if you bite and attack anyone in proximity of you that isn't

Miquella or I." Radagon pressed, "This can't continue, you must know that."

"...I know." Malenia then grabbed her fallen sword, stalking off as her eyes burned.

Rykard lingered before the door to Renalla's chamber, his throat tight and Radahn gently holding his shoulder as the general nudged him forward, "Go ahead, I promise you, time hasn't stripped mother of her patience and fortitude."

"...For a time, it did." Rykard muttered, "Is she the same as she was…before Marika sundered our family?"

"No, but she is still our mother all the same. Quick dithering, she'll be relieved to see you alive, Rykard." Radahn rolled his eyes and pushed open the doors, all but pushing Rykard forward into the room with a startled exhale.

"You prick-" Rykard nearly whirled on his brother until Rennala's voice split the tension as swiftly as a knife.

"Ever consistent, how thee manages to be heckled so easily by thine brother." Renalla's smile bloomed at their antics. Rykard's gold eyes widened sharply to hear her voice once more, or to see his mother in all her serene grace.

Rykard's knees felt weak, and he scarcely registered her hands holding his face before he mumbled numbly, "...Mother…I'm home." he murmured softly.

Rennala tugged him into a tight embrace, "Thee needn't be a stranger in these halls Rykard."

Still dwarfed by his mother, Rykard embraced her tightly around the waist, murmuring, "...You have a grandchild, mother. Would you care to meet them?"

Stars shined in Rennala's eyes then, "Make haste, please. I hadn't realized Tanith had given thee children."

"The circumstances are not so straightforward…little of my manor was in truth." He confessed with a wry sigh, "...I can explain at a later point, yet Rya is our daughter in heart if not in blood through Tanith."

Rennala slowly nodded, knowing not to pry into the sordid lapse of memory on impulse. Even Elia's accounts of her journey had been…sanitized, limited in scope and softened for the Queen. It was not an unkind sentiment, yet it only brought frustration to realize how little Rennala understood of the Shattering's events.

Hopefully on his own terms, Rykard could offer clarity.

Radahn pulled Rennala from her thoughts, "...Its a kind household he's brought to Liurnia, Mother. Well…save for the bald menace that shadows Tanith like a lost puppy."

"Do not introduce her to the migrain that is Patches before we have even begun our introductions." Rykard grumbled.

Loretta had assumed it was an old man who went toe to toe with the Omen Killer.

The force of the hatchet colliding with the bronze mask had been enough to splinter wood. That was not an old man, and his war cry rattled the albinuaric down to her bones. Bare hands caught the cleaver midswing, and a harsh kick to the Omen Killer's sternum was wrought with an audible cracking of ribs.

Not one to be idle and gaping like a fish, Loretta spurred her direwolf onward, unsheathing her long sword as her steed lunged at the cretin with a wide maw. The wolf's jaw closed around their calf, and the strange man rushed forward to grapple the Omen Killer. Muscles strained beneath the stranger's gambeson, and with harsh efficiency the Omen Killer was wrestled into the dirt as their lame leg gave out.

What followed next was the welt squelching of flesh and blood as the Omen Killer's skull was crushed beneath calloused hands, its mask discarded and their killer laboring for breath, yet victorious. Loretta sucked in a sharp breath, tentatively offering a hand to the man.

"...I have the impression you would have fared just fine alone…but are you alright?" she asked.

The man clasped her hand tightly as he rose to his feet, grunting at the strain, "The help is appreciated all the same, lass. Who are thee, to be crossing into Liurnia as I, if I assume correctly?"

"Loretta of Ephael," she answered, "Who are you, a Tarnished capable of brawling a monster into submission with your hands alone?"

"...Horah Loux, warrior of the badlands." Godfrey replied, "I take it thou hast no sympathy for these louts which litter Altus?"

"No, they have tormented my people far and wide across the lands between. Any ally of an omen killer is just as deserving of death as the culprits themselves." Loretta ground out, "Are we of the same mind, Horah Loux?"

Godfrey nodded, "We are. Strength lies in numbers, and this swarm of vagrants only thickens the further south we travel. I propose that I accompany thine host… there seems to be a concerning lack of warriors amongst them."

"...It is a small remnant of fighting people. I appreciate anyone hospitable and willing to assist." Loretta murmured.

Godfrey nodded in kind, "What brings thee to Liurnia however, are the Carian's hospitable to your folk these days?"

Loretta cocked her head at him then, "...Sir, Rennala hasn't governed alone in her own right in centuries."

Godfrey blinked, "...I…I've been absent from these lands for a long while. Who governs the land now?"

"...A tarnished by the name of Elia." Loretta murmured, "The Albinuarics that remained in Liurnia found shelter under her watch. I plan to hold her to the offer she made me some time ago for shelter."

Godfrey visibly stiffened, brows furrowed and grounding out, "I see. The very same Tarnished who burned Leyndell?"

Loretta swallowed hard, "...Yes. You have a quarrel with her?"

"I crossed paths with her in combat for the Elden Ring." Godfrey confessed, eyeing her sword warily then as he stepped back.

"Hold," Loretta sheathed her weapon, "Explain then, is the Erdtree still sacrosanct to you, or is this a matter of losing to your opponent that stokes your ire, Horah Loux?" "Tis both." Godfrey crossed his arms.

"Speak to her and sort out your troubles." Loretta chided, "I have my own grief with the woman, yet spare us the headache of a battle, please."

"I beg thy pardon?" Godfrey muttered.

"She isn't alone, I assume. You may be able to slay an Omen Killer. Can you honestly hope to slay however many allies she's congregated in that town?" Loretta warned.

Godfrey's fists unclenched, and he stiffly shook his head, "...No, nor do I intend to die twice."

"Then come with me, and think of a brighter course of action than combat."

Radagon found Elia at her desk, nose deep into the reports and log of continued supply requisitions and expansions to the town's fortifications. She had been terribly sporadic in her ability to follow Lenore's reports, so much so that the day to minutia fell to the officers in the garrison, and higher approval falling into the laps of Sellen and Lenore.

It was a functional division of authority, yet Elia loathed how far she had slipped from the routine of even reviewing their documents. The numbers of various ledgers were beginning to swim and drift into a numeric soup in Elia's mind before she let her head fall into the stack.

"I rarely find paperwork to be therapeutic." Radagon commented from afar.

A muffled gran soon followed before Elia lifted her head, "Work waits for no one…and traveling does tend to let things accumulate at home." she muttered.

He peered over her shoulder, lifting a document with raised brows, "...Boggart already has lumber and ore shipments?"

"Astoundingly yes. The bogs here do have a sufficient supply of iron, even if the quality is subpar to Mount Gelmir's deposits. I'd hope to twist Rykard into supplying us with more refined metals once his own province is running properly." Elia rubbed her temples, "Sellen's done much to keep this town running whilst we've been running high and low across the continent." "...I get the sense you intend to be very settled, even once this war is dealt with?" Radagon asked.

"I do, I hate to leave a job half finished." Elia murmured, "...Well, how do we want to skin this mess with Malenia?"

"Preferably by not skinning her alive yourself." He sighed, moving to face her from across the desk. His eyes fell to her loose hair, discernibly shorter and unbraided, "...I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for her." Elia shook her head, "...She was receptive to you and Miquella I hope?"

"...I can't say that with any certainty. She stormed off after our talk and seems very tangled in her emotions."

"I see." Elia replied flatly as she glanced back to her paperwork, "...And your thoughts?"

"...She struck a low and sensitive nerve. Knowingly or not. I can't shelter her from every fight she instigates." Radagon murmured, "Don't settle this with a duel again, please. You meant well, as did Miquella, but it only made things worse."

Elia nodded, "...I'm not here to be her therapist or thing to vent upon. Her problems are her own to solve."

"...I can't ask you to take every bit of aggression without finally having your own teeth to bare." Radagon sighed, "Leave her to me."

"I will. I hope she isn't so stubborn as to goad me twice." Elia murmured as she finally left her desk.

Radagon found his arms full rather quickly as Elia rounded the desk and all but face planted into his chest, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist. He shook his head with a soft sigh, resting his chin atop her head as he murmured, "I apologize that you've had to discover the messier nuances of cohabitating with my family."

"Its not your blunder to apologize for." Elia corrected, "I appreciate you intervening and being the buffer between me and the more abrasive demigods."

"I'd be a poor consort to toss you into their crosshairs. You are not the scapegoat of my family." Radagon reminded, cupping Elia's face for a tentative moment.

"Good." she muttered, "I'm less inclined to let Malenia and Rykard bite as they did in the past."

Radagon swallowed hard, nervously running a hand through her hair, "Your hair is clearly a point of pride and importance to you.

It was also cut once before your exile if I recall correctly, why?"

"Braids are a symbol of status and pride, not unlike how your family wears their own." Elia thumbed one of the twin braids framing Radagon's face, "To have it cut was to be denounced entirely by my home, ties cut and no accountability for my actions as an exile."

"Vallis was still standing when you left, was it not?"

"It was, and we were ever more vulnerable as father continued to bolster the academy against the many fiefdoms Liurnia was carved into to keep the nation pacified. I imagine my uncle has his own tale of exile and expulsion, given his inclination to war. He was furious when I had to leave." Elia murmured, "...I found Vallis within weeks of returning - I'd hoped we'd survived the shattering like a naive girl still believing in a miracle."

Radagon felt her form tense, and he asked, "...Tell me, what did your first foray into Liurnia reveal?" Elia sucked in a sharp breath, her voice straining when she spoke.

Vallis had been a verdant little gem straddling one of Liurnia's many rivers. The village's many homes were geometric little things of whitewashed stone, differing from the traditional styles of its neighboring hamlets with roofs of baked clay tiles and frescoed interiors rather than thatched roofs and cob walls.

What Elia had found were stone foundations, a broken fountain that had long since dried, and the telltale scorch marks of a fire.

By whomever's hand, Vallis had been put to the torch after its inhabitants had been put to the sword.

Elia had counted some dozen intact skeletons, the rest were an ambiguous assortment of bones, some canine, some sapient. Livestock had died in their pens, evidenced by the sheep and goat skulls littering the farmyards and stables. Rather than be taken for meat or milk, they had simply been killed.

There was little to rummage through within the homes, only ashes and bone. Much of the bronze and silver reliquary objects that had been customary in household altars had been taken, pearls and shells gone or shattered into nondescript fragments. Elia had found the identifiable shapes of an amphora and pithos, yet even those had been shattered and defaced.

All that stood to mark the village was a tattered blue pennant, faded and sodden from exposure to the elements.

Whatever had sundered Elia's home was likely as dead as Vallis' inhabitants. She gripped Torrent's reigns in a white knuckled grip, shaking her head as she turned away and mounted her horse.

Elia would be back to bury the dead, yet not today, not with a rune to collect. Torrent broke into a gallop, heading ever northwards to the looming citadel of Raya Lucaria. There she would find Rennala.

The Queen owed her an explanation. Chapter End Notes

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blog/the-dreaming-queen

dreaming_ragdoll

The Phases of Grief

The glory of Godrick's rune burned in Elia's leather pouch as the woman stormed the academy. Elia's swords were still slick with the blood of an archmage as nothing else but a lone wolf stood in her path as she stalked into the lecture hall.

Gold eyes met her own before the wolf howled. A blade took shape within its maw, and Elia swore under her breath as the telltale flicker of glintstone stars began to take shape in the air. She eyed her surroundings, then the door at her back and towards the end of the lecture hall.

To hell with fighting with her back against the wall. The spell Elia cast was a petty barrage of pebbles, buffeting the wolf's side as Elia made a sprint for the exit. With the beast in hot pursuit, she leapt over the banister and prayed she recalled the paths to the courtyard proper.

It was a halfway decent idea, to draw out the wolf into an open arena. Elia had horribly played into the assumption that there would only be one wolf to contend with. She descended the steps to see yet another red maned wolf blocking her path, recognizing its packmate as the pair began to circle her.

Elia weighed her odds carefully, already curling her fist around a pouch of spirit ashes from her belt. The fine grains slipped through her fingers as she cast out the handful of ash, rolling aside as the wolf lunged.

Like ink dispersing through water, the spectral essence billowed and took shape into the listing form of a jellyfish. Luckily, the foreign creature drew the attention of a wolf, leaving Elia to square off against the smaller hound.

This one lacked a sword in its jaw, baring sharp teeth and glowering at the intruder with murderous intent. It was more agile than its brother, leaping aside from Elia's lunge and flanking the woman.

Sharp canines lanced through the gaps in her armor's plating, digging into the back of her calf and wrenching the woman off of her feet. She hit the flagstone sharply on her side, dragged down the steps before the wolf snapped his head to the side, tossing

Elia across the tile.

Elia propped herself up onto her elbows, shivering as pain shot through her leg like bolts of liquid fire.

Rising to one knee, she clenched her fists as the pounding pulse in her ears made it difficult to focus the spell coursing through her palms. The thin shaft of blue light loomed above, solidifying into a crystalline lance before it was thrown forward by Elia's spell.

The wolf's cry split the air, its elder packmate charging forward. The lesser wolf collapsed with a dissipating lance skewering the beast through the eye and out the back of its skull. Its chest rose and fell with a few fleeting breaths before it fell limp.

For only a moment its brother nosed at the limp corpse, a low baleful whine escaping the surviving wolf. Elia hastily gathered her blades, still limping about and sweating profusely when the wolf set his eyes on her once more.

Gold eyes met blue and green, and Elia braced herself as the wolf charged. Excorio clashed into a screeching gridlock against the wolf's summoned sword. Gnashing her teeth, Elia's knee shook and threatened to buckle.

Elia's leg gave out.

Her back met the flagstone.

The wolf lunged as Elia reflexively jabbed.

Lacero cut into the underside of its jaw. A harsh cry left the beast as Elia released the lodged sword and rolled out from under the beast. Sellen would have scoffed and scolded her for the shoddy spellwork, the weak volley of glintstone stars peppering the wolf's side as Elia limped to scoop up Excorio.

Limping was a generous descriptor of the crawl, yet her hands closed over the longsword, slick with blood and still sharp. As she trudged forward on a crippled leg, the beast pawed and seized at the sword lancing it like a thorn. Elia threw her weight into his side when she rammed her shoulder against their bleeding side. With a pained yelp, the wolf was sent sprawling and the woman grabbed a fistful of fur for purchase, as weary and dazed as her opponent as blood continued to flow down her leg.

Hoisting herself up, Elia stabbed Excorio down into their throat with the last rush of strength escaping her body. The wolf fell limp, a low bale leaving its chest as its eyes went glassy. Then, Elia finally collapsed, face down and sprawled against the red pelt.

Radagon's eyes were fixed upon Elia with singular focus.

"You said that the wolves had maimed you. Elia, you described a mauling in visceral detail." He hissed.

"The wolves you left for Rennala served their purpose." Elia murmured, "You mended the damage, it's fine… I don't expect an apology for every hardship you left for me in my journey."

"...Don't spare me the details about your path to the throne in the future." he sighed as he raked a hand through his hair,

"Continue, you found Rennala, and seemed quite furious at the state your village was left in. By her forces?"

"I had thought that, initially." Elia shook her head, "Pour yourself a drink, I'd partake myself if I could." Radagon raised a brow, "...It was that terrible?" "You'll see." Elia slid him a cup.

Elia awoke at a site of grace. Within the lectern hall and sitting by the gentle beacon of golden light was Melina, the maiden looking over Elia with stern scrutiny.

"Will I always find you in such a state, Elia? Bleeding and broken." Melina spoke softly, her tone wry and lacking the same scolding tone as Sellen would take.

"Perhaps," Elia wheezed, looking at her numb and bandaged leg, "...did I die?"

Melian shook her head, "No. Though perhaps you may wish you had, wounds such as those may linger."

Elia grimaced, "Its too late to mourn that decision now, I imagine? How long was I unconscious?"

"Half a day." Melina flatly replied, "Shall you retreat to the hold, or to Sellen?"

Elia grimaced, slowly rising onto her good leg and managing an unsteady step forward, "No. I should be able to find a potion or two within an academy, should I not?"

Melina exhaled sharply through her nose, "Perhaps, I bid you to tread with caution. Your drive is appreciated, but foolhardy if you hope to claim a rune in such a state."

She peered over her shoulder, "I need answers. I'll leave when I have them and no sooner."

The kindling maiden shook her head, "Be careful, and good luck."

As Melina's form dissipated into motes of light, Elia trudged forward into the academy halls. Braced against the wall, she continued her search, sword in hand and setting her jaw. She knew these classrooms and labs since she was small. The faded and chipped blue paint of an arched door was achingly familiar to her. With a well placed shove, the door creaked open, and Elia stumbled into the old laboratory of her father.

Herbs and parchment once were the scents of the room, lavender and sage had been favored scents of her father, now the room stank of rot and mildew. A caved in ceiling, broken windows, and rotting wood were none too inviting. Yet flasks still littered a sturdy desk, chests of supplies had gone untouched in favor of richer reliquaries being pilfered. Slowly but surely, Elia began gathering the mixture of vials, preserved eyes and entrails, and what remnants of dried herbs and ground metals remained.

Homebrewed potions were a staple of any mage worth their salt, and her father had been no exception. As she brought the beaker to boil over the stub of a candle she'd scavenged, the smell of salt and rosemary filtered through the room.

The mixture inside was the color of teal, too thick and closer to syrup than the watery consistency it should have possessed.

Sellen would have abhorred the sloppy ratios and unripe ingredients. Yet they would suffice.

Elia bottled three vials of the brew, and downed the remainder of the vials contents.

She saw double and the world turned on its axis as the sudden wave of vertigo made her collapse. Her head hit the table on the way down, and Elia coughed at the pungent taste of the potion.

Then came the burning of sinew, the forceful realignment of bone. Crimson flasks were truly a more refined brew if not by potency, than the banality of the solution itself. Knossian potions were as uncut as their wine, thick and undiluted for raw impact rather than potability. With ligaments and bone forced into shape once more, Elia gnashed her teeth to stifle a scream, cursing herself and her stubborness.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there, catching her breath and then waiting in the remnants of her father's lab. By the time Elia sat upright and could so much as wiggle her bad leg's toes, the stars were out and the night was clear.

Liurnia's moon sat low over the horizon, silver and resplendent as its academy festered like an infected wound.

Elia found Rennala by candlelight.

Surrounded by books and halfborn sweetings, the queen drifted by her lonesome with the egg clutched to her chest. Elia stepped over one of the girls, unnerved by the glassy eyed stares they gave, and was further unsettled by their empty laughter.

Her throat tight and nerves on edge, Elia shouted to end Rennala's strange prattle of rebirth, "Woman, I care not for how you occupy yourself in solitude! I came here for answers if you have the memory or care to remember what transpired in this country."

Rennala's gaze was distant and as cold as her daughters. Clutching the egg tighter at Elia's biting tone, the queen's tone sharpened. "Born anew, thy rage would be forgotten. Wouldst thou not prefer to shed thine burden and heavy heart? To be rebirthed anew?"

One of the sweetings closed its hand over Elia's ankle. The queen's question was not a proposal. It was a command.

Excorio cut the offending hand as Elia rushed forward, "Will I have to pry that thing from you to have you look me in the eye, or are you truly gone?" she whispered, eyes widening at the looming prospect of a queen's mind left in shambles.

Rennala offered no response, curling in defensively around the egg she cradled, and a glimmering barrier of gold began to form. Elia cursed under her breath as the chants of the sweetlings rose in volume, shaking her head as she stalked into the darkened aisles of the library.

Much like weeding a garden, Elia rooted out the chanting Sweetings one by one from the lot of them. They were a lame but numerous bunch, prying and gripping at Elia's heels with feeble strength. A kick typically broke their hold, nor were mage robes a fitting armor against sharpened swords. Yet it was unsettling to see docile and empty faces scurrying like rats in the dark, clawing in their half life to protect their mother.

Elia tasted bile when she cut down the first. She was seeing red by the ninth with dread building in her stomach. Rennala couldn't be sane, not to have orchestrated a brood of malformed offspring in an effort to not feel the magnitude of her isolation.

Finally, Rennala fell for the last time, the egg kicked out of the queen's grip and a sword leveled for her throat.

The sweetings were gone, the magic fueling them having run dry as Rennala lay sprawled across the tile, wide eyed yet not quite coherent as she still tried to reach for her egg. Finally, Elia reached for the Queen's hood, snagging the woman back as she hissed, "Enough! What will that egg do for you that it hasn't managed to succeed in after centuries of grief?"

Rennala's struggles slowed, something like recognition flashing over her features for a scant moment as she looked Elia in the face. Fear quickly overrode the queen's thoughts, "U-Unhand me-"

Elia released her grip, her expression solemn as she stepped forwards towards the egg, "As you wish." she murmured.

Then came the billowing of smoke and from there, Ranni's scathing voice soon followed. Chilly and filling the antechamber like a biting frost, "By my name as Ranni the Witch, thou shall not disturb Mother's rich slumber."

Elia's blood ran cold, before she could rush forward to grab the egg, or escape whatever trap Ranni had set, the room had already gone dark.

Gone was Rennala and her egg, and in her stead loomed the visage of the woman in her prime. Slow and dignified in her stride, the Carian Queen leveled her scepter towards Elia. Rennala's eyes were as empty as her broken counterpart, yet lethal in their intent.

The illusion of Queen Rennala fought with unparalleled grace. Gravity was perhaps a suggestion to the woman, liminal in its hold as the sorceress moved like a fish through water. By contrast, Elia was closer to a worm, sluggish and flailing to dodge the plume of fire billowing from the jaws of the summoned dragon.

Yet where the queen was light footed, she was slow and glacial in her strides. Where Elia still limped and lagged, she was sharp and precise in her movements. She did not move like a breeze, but more akin to an arrow set loose as she closed the distance between her and Rennala.

To contend with Rennala as one mage to another would be foolhardy. Even as Elia loathed to neglect the spells Sellen had drilled into her, they were useless against the gleaming moon Rennala summoned. Ultimately what won the duel was endurance and the practicality of a sword versus a staff. Even illusions bled amidst their enchanted arenas, the art of their existence was to function as completely as their counterpart. Thus, Rennala's illusion fought the same, danced the same, and bled the same.

When Elia stepped away from the fading body of the illusion, she held in her palm the rune that the Queen cherished. In the true Rennala's arms sat the egg, the woman's back braced against a bookshelf and her gaze slowly following the Tarnished. Her lips wordlessly moved, straining to remember the name of her assailant.

"...Tarnished." Elia froze at the call, having only just slipped the rune into the pouch about her neck.

"Yes?" she faced Rennala then, brows furrowed and the Queen staring back as she cradled the egg.

"Tell me, what brought thee here? If not to be reborn from they woes?" Rennala asked, "Thou…thou shouted, demanded something of me, but what…what didst thou seek?"

"...Do you remember much of anything beyond your time here, Rennala? Do you remember your students, colleagues, and friends?" Elia asked, her tone mournful.

The Queen stared for a long while, her gaze turning distant before she shook her head. Elia sighed, "Stay here, at least until the last of the mages are cleared out. They went mad somewhere along the line, and I don't think you'll have the means to fight them."

Rennala nodded, suggestable to Elia's idea and cradling the egg in her lap as she spoke, "...I wish for the time to reflect. Speak to me again, Tarnished?"

"...I," Elia was clearly hesitant then, "...Alright. I'm sorry for the mess I made of your library."

Rennala's mind was in a far off place, only nodding as she idly hummed an old lullaby.

Elia left the queen in silence.

Elia peered up at Radagon with a quiet sigh, "I came to Liurnia for answers and left with a rune and countless more questions.

I…I found it hard to hold onto my anger after seeing Rennala in her condition then."

"The project of rehabilitating her… was that your intent from the start?" Radagon asked, anxiously wringing his wrists.

"No. I just…I didn't want to make it worse for her and she was harmless without the rune." Elia murmured, "You…you had promised to come back for her, yet that never happened, did it?"

Radagon slowly shook his head, "...That is partly why I was unwilling to defend my actions when we first confronted Rennala. Circumstances with Marika only worsened…and the twins- I couldn't leave them in their infancy for Rennala, not on a clear conscience. Yet I did make a choice. To contain Marika and stand by my youngest children than to honor my promise."

Elia stiffly nodded, "...Neither of you were dealt a fair hand."

"Nor were you. Have you anything else to share?"

"No. I'd like to rest and let today end." Elia let her face fall into Radagon's chest. His hand gently cupped the back of her head then, letting Elia bury her face against his shirt.

"Very well, grackle."

Lifeblood

Elia grimaced at the tray of vials and syringes Sellen produced.

Already queasy and blinking away the dredges of sleep, Elia sat in a chaise with her arm outstretched for the witch, the woman staring back with a contemplative look. Sellen had dismissed Radagon, hoping to speak to her apprentice alone.

The first question from Sellen's lips was not unexpected.

"Is this something you want, given the timing of things?" The graven witch asked, her tone fraught with concern.

Sharp nails dug into the armrest of the chair, and Elia bit her tongue, "I truly wish it wasn't with war looming, not when I need to be able to fight."

"...That implies you do want this, just under better circumstances? Is it worth the risk?" Sellen asked, gripping Elia's hand tightly.

"I'm immortal, am I not? I don't fear birthing them, I fear the process of getting them over the damned finished line." she whispered.

"Then let us shoulder the load." Sellen affirmed, "If motherhood is what you want, you have my support."

"You're terribly close to coddling me, a thing you claimed you would never do." Elia managed a weak smile.

"Elia," Sellen sighed, "You are my charge, my student, and the nearest thing to family I imagine I will let myself indulge. You were never going to be left to face this ordeal alone."

Elia sucked in a sharp breath, "Jab that needle into my arm before this gets overly sentimental, please?"

"I suppose it does us no good to get choked before we truly know if you're expecting or not." Sellen relented, turning to the sterile tray and gloving her hands, "Relax your arm, this'll sting."

Despite the warning, the pain of a jab always stung, and was over in seconds as Sellen drew the blood needed for her tests. The strange warmth of regenerating skin was still a novelty to Elia, and she blinked at the ichor that was withdrawn.

"Would you believe me if I said I still expect to bleed red?" Elia murmured meekly.

"I would. …Its strange treating your wounds since this happened to you." Sellen admitted, inspecting the syringe for a moment, "At another time, I would want to study this. Understand how divinity is seated so fundamentally in the constructs of flesh and bone."

"I…I could allow that, and it may bode necessary for what Radagon and I intend to do at Nokron." Elia said, "...This isn't public knowledge, but it will be once we return."

"What are you and that man planning that requires such secrecy?" Sellen asked as she injected the ichor into the vial filled with the necessary reagent.

"...Separating Marika from him for good. Thus facilitating her revival. I don't know if I'm about to have a full fledged empyrean on my hands once more, or how divine she would still be?" Elia murmured, and the progression of Sellen's expression from bewilderment to disbelief and fear was palpable.

"You…you plan on letting her walk?" Sellen whispered, "What has this woman done to warrant any degree of mercy or charity from you or the other half she abused?"

"Nothing that I can directly attest to," Elia confessed, "Yet we've seen her capacity to overtake Radagon, he was notably transparent once she resurfaced in his psyche as well. She can be negotiated with and barred from power…and I wouldn't kill the last parent Godwyn and Morgott can lay claim to."

"The two men who incited this war." Sellen ground out, "To toss them a bone does nothing to mitigate the consequences of their actions."

"This isn't a bone - its giving them an iota of stability and peace that I wish I could still have in knowing my parent survived." Elia countered, "Will things ever get better if we continue be a punitive and fearful lot, always fearing a knife in the back and numbing ourselves to any sense of goodwill?"

"Goodwill is a thing Morgott was worth risking upon as one calculated risk we had leverage against. Goodwill was what you imparted upon me in an effort to work towards a more attainable goal together than to reach for the stars." Sellen shook her head, "A goddess who damned us all is not worth that effort."

"Every demigod here aside from Miquella and Godwyn were foes I slew or was hunted by, and yet we have brokered some form of a standing peace. Without the Greater Will, what force could incite a war to parallel the Shattering?" Elia clenched her fists, "...I've not thrown us out of the pan and into the fire yet, will you trust me to try to contain Marika?"

Sellen grimaced, "If she steps a toe out of line, she dies. A good number of people will be prepared to settle their grievances with their fallen idol. I advise you to be prepared for that onslaught."

"...I know. I value Godwyn and Morgott having an ounce of restitution more than the ease of simply tossing Marika to the wolves however." Elia murmured.

"I will sooner move to protect you than her. Marika will simply be tolerated." Sellen sighed.

"Thats fair." Elia eyed the vial, cocking her head at the audible bubbling as the ichor continued to pulse with heat, "...Sellen, is that the anticipated reaction?"

"No?" The witch whispered, "It should have reacted with a shift in color, to register a hormonal shift." Sellen drew closer, "...I need more time, and samples."

Elia let her head fall against the chair with a long suffering groan, "To hell with whatever god that decided my body should become a host to biological mysteries yet unseen."

"I'll solve this mess, no need for theatrics Elia." Sellen chided, "I would ask Radagon for samples as well, to better understand the overlap and delineations between a divine, their consort, and a mortal's physiology."

"...If it weren't likely to broach anxieties, I'd ask Miquella if he's done research pertaining the rot in Malenia's blood, and his own everlasting youth before Mohg's kidnapping." Elia muttered, her expression darkening as the omen came to mind.

"You may be one of the few people able to ask that of the boy beyond his father. If I'm correct, he shadows you quite often these days…enough to stoke an open conflict with Malenia?" Sellen raised her brows.

Elia sighed, "Yes, he's effectively my son."

Sellen stared at the open admission, "...Ah. A contentious development to say the least."

"The impromptu haircut from Malenia does convey her opposition to the idea, yes." Elia deadpanned, "He's family, as much as you and Millicent are to me."

Sellen's throat tightened, "What a strange family the lot of us make. A goddess, a witch, a valkyrie, and a demigod with his stalwart father."

"Careful, I might think you have a positive impression of my husband now." Elia teased.

"Nonsense." Sellen rolled her eyes despite a small smile beginning to bloom.

Godrick was a quiet prisoner, contemplative in the long lapses between his meetings with Nepheli and Kenneth.

The visits were often perfunctory and clinical, recounting details of Stormveil from his tenure as lord. Godrick's clarity of these memories wavered heavily, a fact that only made the lad uneasy the further he tried to understand the fractured thoughts of a man too far removed from his own skin, and drowning in the weight of flesh and bone that was not his own.

He felt odd, in a flesh that was once more young, weak, and frail. Yet the hunger was now gone from where his rune once sat in his body. To the outside observer, the only hint that the lad had been a grafted king was perhaps his pale blonde locks and golden eyes, features paired solely within the golden lineage.

The toil of age had been lessened beyond the dark circles under Gordrick's eyes, and a bookish face that was far too gaunt to resemble his far removed grandsire that was Godwyn. Fair faced and as beautiful as his mother…the crown prince had been a lofty man ever since Godrick could recall. By contrast, Godrick had strained to show any prowess in combat, barely capable of serving as a squire and paling under the might of those like Malenia and Radahn.

Where Godrick had been an exemplar was perhaps in his former fondness of history and music, subjects too mundane for a demigod of Marika's lineage.

Become a lord, or become a sacrifice. Those were the options before a boy dwarfed by his family, thus he clawed, reached, and grafted whatever tools necessary for ascension. Only to be cut down by a scrappy numen.

Godrick tried not to dwell on his defeat, it was hard to, when so much of his flesh had no longer been his own, balking under the weight of stolen flesh, bones, and glory. He was no demigod, no lord, no king.

He was a sad little man sitting in a cell as the bastard offspring of Godfrey sooner lived up to her parentage than he. Yet in those quiet hours, he could still be attentive and observant. There was routine in this castle, order and stability that allowed him to recall the faces and stature of his guards. The most curious of that rotation were the twins tasked with guarding his cell most mornings.

Finally, he dared to speak to them, moderately certain he wouldn't earn him a kick to the ribs, "...Twins are not a common occurrence." Godrick murmured, pale gold eyes flicking from one twin to the other, finding little difference between the pair than perhaps the waspish temperament of the older brother.

"No. Revived demigods are none too common either." Darian spoke, eyes narrowed, "Was Boyana not thorough in culling you, or is grace once again mocking us in mysterious ways?"

"The latter." Godrick replied simply, "That woman spared me no quarter in her zeal to take my rune."

"None of us would, for how many died under your watch it stands as a surprise that Nepheli allows you to live." Darian scoffed.

The twins' younger brother was a quiet onlooker, staring at Godrick as if he were some strange insect trapped in a jar.

"Yet you still defer to her judgment." Godrick replied.

Darian exhaled sharply, terribly tempted to prove that statement wrong for a fleeting moment.

Godrick continued, hands tightly clasped together, "How long has she ruled here?"

"...Since midsummer." Darian replied flatly, "It has been a slow and arduous process to rehabilitate this keep into a home for the last of us tarnished."

"And where is your Elden Lord?" Godwyn asked, "She won, did she not?"

Darian grimaced, "...The consensus seems to be as such, yes. Stormveil is not her seat however, nor has she ventured here."

Godrick cocked his head, "If not Leyndell, Stormveil is the most formidable fortress after the fall of Redmane."

"Liurnia is her dwelling." Darian corrected, "We have tended fine to our own here…Altus has been a neutral area of much contention as of late, Liurnia will sooner respond than us to whatever brews in the province."

"The despotic halls of a mad queen and her festering mages is no holdfast for a king." Godrick muttered, "Even I understand that

fact."

"Are you fit in any fashion to comment about the capacity to hold a citadel?" Darian shook his head.

"Raya Lucaria is an academy, not a palace, not a fortified city. They will be at a significant disadvantage to hold the site that was never built to withstand war." Godrick pressed.

"Then relay your wisdom to Nepheli and cease your prattle." Darian turned his back to the demigod, praying for the next shift rotation to come soon.

"When the woman leaves me to rot in a cell, that task becomes rather difficult." Godrick sighed, "Very well, see your Elden Lord fall on her own sword, defending a citadel with no army, no allies, or generals."

"She isn't alone." Darian huffed, "If rumors are true she sports a growing mass of albinuarics and demigods."

Godrick choked on his own spit, lurching forward to stare at the twins in disbelief, "What happened - by what grace are they still alive?"

The hunter cursed under his breath, assessing Godrick sternly as he eyed the man's thin frame and wide eyes. What harm lay in a man this frail?

"...I don't claim to understand the workings of grace, yet it has wrought the rebirth of General Radahn and Prince Godwyn." Darian murmured, doubt lacing his tone as he mentioned the crown prince, "...The details are muddled, yet Liurnia is not a lone citadel waiting to be assaulted. It has already withstood an assault by Margit within the last month, the damage of the Omen's rampage was minor and well contained by the academy's garrison once word reached us."

Godrick was pale, grimacing at the mention of the omen and Radahn. Gripping the bars tightly, he asked, "...What happened to Godwyn was beyond the pale. His soul ravaged and body rendered into a festering monstrosity which plagues the bowels of this very castle in its putrid growth. How do you mean to tell me he simply lives as he once did?"

Darian crossed his arms, remembering the stabbing pain of a knife spearing his stomach, Fia's trembling hands and the desperation in her gaze. He exhaled a shaking sigh, "Because many…many ambitious folk wanted Godwyn and the undying laid to rest, or reborn. They may have succeeded by some divine comedy. With Boyana pursuing deathblight, it doesn't surprise me that she has a hand in this."

"...I see." Godrick let his head rest against the bars, "I give you my thanks for supplying answers where Nepheli shall not."

"Twas not intended, speak of this to no one." Darian kept his eyes forward, away from Godrick, "I only tell you this to render your defeat as an absolute. You lost, and the world will move on without you."

"You sport only the most charming of dispositions, Tarnished." Godrick grimaced.

Radagon frowned at Elia's question, "Sellen wishes to do what with my blood?"

"Study it, and use it as a sample to cross reference how it'll react to her tests. As it stands, whatever flows through my veins doesn't interact with her reagents as blood normally should." Elia sighed, "The perks of divinity."

Radagon pinched the bridge of his now, "Predicting Marika's pregnancies never came easily to us, omens and premonitions were read by finger readers to deduce if Godfrey had managed to sire an heir."

"Please tell me I don't need a crone to manhandle my hands to have an answer." Elia groaned.

"No, I don't imagine any are still lucid or connected to the Greater Will to garner a proper reading any longer." Radagon murmured, "Had you come across any in your travels?"

"Enia was the only one with her mind still intact." Elia confessed, "She…she was close to death once the tree burned."

Radagon froze, "Enia… she served Marika's court once."

Elia blinked, "That…that doesn't entirely surprise me, she seemed to hold a sense of seniority over the Hold, which resembled sections of Leyndell's castle."

"...I expect Sellen to dispose of the samples once she's finished her tests, but she may have them." Radagon murmured, "Divine blood isn't an asset to leave unattended."

"Mohg was able to wield spectacular control over Millicent's blood..and practically emerged from Miquella's veins," Elia murmured, "...You speak from experience with the substance being misused?"

Radagon nodded, "...Nokron was the den where Marika and Mailketh first understood how a would-be god could fester."

"...Sellen also knows about that…the intention to revive her." Elia murmured.

"Does she take issue with the idea?" Radagon asked, surprisingly calm.

"Many, but she's warned me of the risks and otherwise isn't intervening." Elia rubbed her neck with a soft sigh, "...We ought to inform Godwyn and the others before we return with her."

"...I would worry about Malenia's response." Radagon wrung his wrists, "Her relationship with Marika was defunct long before the shattering ensued."

"Someone needs to tell her, and…I'm not doing it, not after her last outburst." Elia said. Radagon groaned into his hands, "Fine, yet I will be annoyed through the entire ordeal."

Varre furrowed his brow at the ghastly sight of the Erdtree.

Reduced to a sun bleached gray, more and more of its branches and boughs beginning to snap and crumble atop the ruins of Leyndell. The capital had already been reduced to ash, now it seemed the tree would be poised to rot and collapse atop its citadel.

"...I would almost commend her work." the surgeon laced his hands together, smiling beneath his mask.

Mohg was a more somber spectator, arms crossed and fixing his good eye upon the tree as its days as a monolith were seemingly coming to a close. His voice rasped low and sweetly, "A Tarnished fumbled for glory and wrought more damage to the divine than I could have envisioned. Perhaps chaos is the most potent chisel of all against the firmament of law." "Tis a boon to not be tasked with breaching Leyndell." Varre mused.

"For now, yes." Mohg agreed, "Anything worth scouring in that ruin will wait." The omen surveyed a strange blot upon the landscape. The site of a war camp. Or what once was.

Trodden dirt, heavy grooves made by hooves and wagons, and the dead black pits of bonfires and hearths were the obvious tells of an army once gracing the province, quite recently in fact. A skeptical look adorned Mohg's features as he glanced upon his servant, "Varre, what cult could amass a standing army? Rykard was dead, nor were our numbers so immense."

Varre shook his head, "...Tis no cult, my lord. Sir Ofnir was the man to rally the perfumers and Tarnished into a warband to hold Altus. It seems something has compelled them to depart."

"The nearest province is Liurnia." Mohg muttered, "Perfumers encompass the cohort of Omen Killers, do they not?" Varre paled, "...They do, sir."

"Come, I wish to find my brother before they do." Mohg exhaled tightly

"Two souls shall move faster than a horde of hundreds-" Varre grabbed Mohg's arm in a rare breach of decorum. Mohg stiffened, close to shaking off Varre's grip before he sighed, nodding for the man to continue.

"You are fresh and reborn into the world, with a yet untested and delicate grafting of flesh and bone." Varre pleaded, "Do not rush into battle so soon, please."

Mohg's groan of frustration was a guttural and feral sound, "Thy concern is a gift I am rarely blessed with. Yet do not seek to coddle me in thy efforts to assure my safety, Varre."

"Even as you plunge headlong into a province rife with Demigods and Radagon himself?" Varre shook his head in open defiance, "Allow an army to do what we cannot. Divide and spread their numbers thin, then strike. Have we not bled countless opponents dry through such tactics, my lord?"

"Thou art my emissary, not my war counselor." Mohg grimaced.

"It was I who survived to revive you. My words hold water." Varre countered.

"Defiance is a new mask upon thy being." Mohg noted, his voice low and bitter as he stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Varre. A clawed hand slipped beneath he white mask, removing it from the surgeon in a smooth motion.

"...One I shall wear if it implores you to heed my advice and tread with caution. Please. " Varre ground out, sweat beading down his brow as he clenched his fists. Eyes locked, Varre swallowed hard as Mohg loomed over him in height and stature.

"The sweetness of thy pleading is the only balm to thy insubordination, Varre," Mohg warned, still cradling the man's face with misaligned tenderness.

"...Then I shall choose the softest of words for you." Varre murmured.

"Continue to do so, they are sweeter than the nectar of ichor." Mohg hummed in approval.

The Trappings of Family

Miquella was the first to hear the news.

Arms wrapped around his knees and seated atop Elia's bed, the boy frowned at the woman as he muttered, "...It was stupid to fight Malenia."

Elia sighed, "I won't refute that, but I'm more concerned about your thoughts regarding the strange landscape of our family."

Miquella tossed up his hands with a huff, "Either father's sired another demigod and put you at risk or we thank the odds that you aren't pregnant in wartime! My thoughts are that this is ridiculous and ill timed."

"That is what I needed to know," Elia leaned in, unphased and accustomed to letting the boy vent, "I'm sorry recent days exploded into a mess that won't be easy to contain…particularly with your sister."

Miquella held his face with a tired sigh, "...You seem finished with her. Is that right?"

Elia exhaled tightly, "...At present, yes. I'm not holding a powder keg close enough to be burned by her outbursts. She lives under my roof, and I'll give her a wide berth if she has the sense to do the same with me. Radagon can play mediator this time, I did it for months for his benefit." she glumly admitted.

Miquella cocked his head, "Why do that work if it frustrated you?"

"Sometimes you pay goodwill forward, particularly for friends and loved ones." Elia murmured, "Sellen needed intense handling in the early months of settling Raya Lucaria when she otherwise would have clashed with Renalla." "...You're not going to drop me, if I prove too frustrating?" Miquella asked, brows furrowed.

"No. You're a child, intensely smart, precocious, and very sweet. Malenia is a woman grown, even as the youngest of the

Demigods alongside you in a fashion. My expectations for you two are vastly different." Elia corrected as she reached out to cup

Miquella's face, "I'm afraid you're stuck with me until you dictate otherwise."

Relief bled over the boy's features, and he lurched forward to pull her into a tight hug, "...Thanks."

"You're most welcome." Elia returned the embrace in kind, "...I won't be gone long, do you think you'll be alright staying behind this time?"

Miquella tensed, "...Godwyn's leaving with you, is he not?"

Elia nodded, "Him, Radagon, Millicent, and I are all departing tomorrow. Nokron…it's a different minefield than Mount Gelmir or Leyndell, not a place I would want you to be. Nor…nor do I want you to face Marika when she's freshly reborn and raw to the world."

"...I don't want to see that - I could go the rest of my days without seeing that woman." Miquella whispered, "How long will you and father be gone?"

"Less than a day ideally - I'm hoping to drag my uncle back with me in short order." Elia murmured, "...You'll be alright?"

"I know I will. Malenia is here, as is Morgott…if Godwyn trusts the man, he may be worth speaking to." Miquella rubbed his neck.

"It still intimidates you…seeing an omen?" Elia asked.

Miquella nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

"...You won't always be afraid, but it does take time to decouple fear from the nervous tendencies it carves into our skin." Elia sighed, still holding the boy as the door was nudged open.

Radagon's brows rose at the sight, halting in the doorway as he asked, "Am I intruding?"

Elia glanced at Miquella, "Do you need a few more minutes to talk?"

The boy shook his head, "Come in, I have words for him too."

Stepping inside, Radagon sighed, "Pray tell, what might those be, Miquella?"

"Were you so hasty and didn't think an infant demigod might pose a problem in war?" Miquella huffed until Elia ruffled his hair.

"Hey, I'm equally responsible for this circumstance." Elia countered.

"Then you're both idiotic." Miquella deadpanned.

"Elia, did I fail to mention that you've taken a brat under your wing?" Radagon drawled, striding forward and cocking his head at Miquella, "Are you doing alright?"

"...I need to muster up the courage to see Malenia." Miquella confessed.

"The burden of smoothing this over isn't your task, Miquella." Radagon chided, "Not alone at least."

"I have no illusion of fixing this - but I can't avoid her for days and weeks on end." Miquella sighed.

Radagon nodded then, "...That is very true."

For the moments that wore on, Miquella was content to be held in silence, simply tugging on Radagon's sleeve to coax his father into joining the embrace.

Godrick grimaced at the sharp sting of sunlight against pale skin and sensitive eyes. Tugged by the arm, he was led out onto the ramparts by the same pair of Tarnished twins towards the looming figure of Nepheli Loux.

He was beyond caring about the subtle insult that it was to be unshackled and then released as he was pushed forwards to face the Lady of Stormveil. Nepheli however presented herself more as a general than a noblewoman.

This was the most formal he had seen her dress, in proper armor rather than the leathers of the badlands and sporting a fur cloak. Dark eyes flitted over Godrick, unease still gracing Nepheli's features whenever she beheld the demigod.

"You have many opinions regarding Liurnia's readiness for war, Godrick." the woman spoke, arms crossed and eyeing him intently, "D makes for a sour emissary, what do you have to say that warrants my attention."

"A war brews in Altus, does it not? Is your Tarnished friend meant to hold her own with books, parchment, and quills?" Godrick replied, his tone flat and riddled with exhaustion, "Raya Lucaria is no citadel, not as we are."

Nepheli bristled, "We, does not include the former despot whom made this keep a living hell. You are not one of us."

Godrick tensed, "Semantics. Is your friend clinging to that land out of misbegotten nostalgia, or a death wish. Better yet, who is she to be waging war in the infancy of a dynasty?"

"Raya Lucaria is stable." Nepheli ground out, "You would do well to remember that we Tarnished are not mere scavengers incapable of restoring the parts of this world we deem as home."

"Stable does not mean it will stand under the assault of an army, much less a cult." Godrick pressed, "I care not for if the numen has a death wish, yet the Elden Ring is vulnerable. Have you even identified who is stirring up trouble on the frontier, Nepheli?"

The woman's silence was damning and Godwyn continued, "Act quickly before that surprise bites you in the arse. Now - how long were you planning to withhold the knowledge of my own kin yet living?"

Nepheli exhaled hotly as she sent Darian a withering look, "When my own eyes have not seen Godwyn, I had nothing to report to my prisoner."

"My grandsire is alive, I invoke whatever right I hold as family to send word to him." Godrick pressed.

"To what end, to beseech his aid and petition for your release?" Nepheli shook her head, "Tell me, by whatever trial and judge would you not lose your head for your past deeds?"

"None." Godrick whispered, "All the same, I reserve my right to communicate to my surviving family, Lady Nepheli."

Nepheli's stare was intense and scrutinizing, "Get him a quill and parchment upon his return to his cell. As well, dismiss a scout for Raya Lucaria before the hour is out…I want eyes on that academy as soon as possible."

Darian nodded stiffly as he grabbed Godrick's arm. Devin spoke up then, quiet and far less agitated than his sibling, "Is it not long overdue for Boyana to make herself seen?"

Nepheli's shoulders slumped, "This keep cannot be so easily left."

"Then beckon her here if an audience is necessary." Darian ground out, "Time seems to be of the essence with this cretin's prattling."

"How many cults still fester and crawl?" Godrick ground out in reply, "The Recusants Rykard so adores to feast upon, or the Lord of Blood's many bloodstained lovers and surgeons? I doubt the numen made allies of their ilk, nor are they keen to let a new goddess reign without contention."

Nepheli grimaced, "To hell with this. If you have words for Godwyn, be prepared to say them in person in the fleeting hours Elia will grant you before your head rolls."

Godrick's blood ran cold, "I beg your pardon?"

"We leave before nightfall, see to it that we have the men and supplies readied in short order." Nepheli addressed the twins, storming past the three of them in stern silence.

Godwyn watched the first layers of brick be laid behind the wooden palisades. Accompanied by Morgott and Lenore, the three made for a quiet trio as the albinuaric woman eyed the omen for the first time since his capture.

Morgott was far from blind, and finally broke the silence, "Before thine eyes bore through my flesh, tell me what it is thou wishes to say?"

"Was it satisfying to kill Ofnir?" Lenore asked, curt and to the point.

Morgott paused, "...It was. I only wish he had choked on my blade." He paused before scowling, "Where did my armaments get stowed away upon my capture?"

"Deep in the armory and under lock and key." Lenore said, "If you want them back I'll happily bequeath them to you, I want that raw talent for combat laid loose upon Ofnir's men."

Morgott nodded once, "My talents and more will be at thine disposal."

Godwyn and Lenore paused, the prince being the one ask, "I wasn't aware you had surviving contacts outside Liurnia."

"It took time to receive word from them. Boyana and her maiden gutted much of my calvary." Morgott ground out, lamenting that loss of life dearly, "Two are en route as we speak."

Godwyn blinked, "...I hadn't thought you kept correspondence outside the village." "Even I have my private matters, brother." Morgott reminded.

"I can't turn away two able bodies, even if they may draw alarm from the tarnished who settled here." Lenore murmured,

"...Morgott, how adept are you at managing a garrison proper?"

"Twas I who stewarded Leyndell until my first death, captain." Morgott inclined his head towards the woman, "What ideas dost thou plan for me?"

"...I need commanders, someone who won't lose their head if we have our walls overrun." Lenore confessed.

"I've also earned a good deal of combat experience." Godwyn huffed at the thought of being overlooked.

"Have you withstood a siege, Golden Boy?" Lenore countered softly, "I want you fighting with us, but I haven't seen you in command, and won't test you in the heat of the moment with my men on the line."

"I confronted the dragons when they shattered Leyndell's walls." Godwyn rebutted, "...I wish I still had Fortissax by my side, in all honesty. Him and Lannseax reduced many enemies to cinders in our escapes together."

"The she-dragon still prowls Altus." Morgott informed, "...She is not a hospitable sort these days with the death of her sibling."

"Odd…Fia and I never encountered a dragon when we crossed through Altus, nor in Leyndell." Godwyn held his chin in thought, "She would be someone to pursue, war or not."

"Unless thou can conjure thine former comrade from the dead, thou will sooner be set aflame than spoken too." Morgott dismissed.

"...I wouldn't dismiss that possibility." Godwyn murmured, his gaze intent enough to make Lenore and Morgott flinch.

"What did undeath do to you for that to be a possibility?" Lenore pressed, unease churning in her stomach at the thought.

Godwyn was silent, his expression grim and impassive as he shook his head. Mind set and shoulders squared, Morgott chose not to waste his breath on coaxing his brother to decide otherwise. He merely held the prince's shoulder and murmured, "I bid thee good luck then. Thou shall need it."

Volcano Manor had not afforded Diallos an ample amount of time to converse with Elia. Attending Rya and dealing with Patches alone could consume a day, as well the air about the manor had been notably tense with the demigods occupying its halls.

Raya Lucaria was starkly different since Diallos had last lain eyes on the structure.

Fortified walls, repaired shelves and hallways that no longer reeked of rot and mildew. Aged and dilapidated tomes had been weeded from the stacks and collection, and finally the mages that roamed the halls were of a sane cohort. Though few in number, the students and professors were in a bustle to fetch tomes and materials to assist in construction, leaving no time to be idle in the academy.

What hadn't changed was Boyana's choice of lodging. Still dwelling in a former professor's quarters as she had in the aftermath of fighting Renalla. Rapping thrice at the door, her voice carried through mere seconds later with a muffled, "Enter."

"...If I'd known you'd refurbished the academy into a proper home, I would have been quicker to return to Liurnia." Diallos's tone was light and teasing until he saw his companion nursing strong tea and a child collapsed in her lap where she was seated on a chaise- Miquella?

Diallos stared, eyeing Elia in silence for a moment before she waved him over, "Take a seat before you decide to park yourself to watch a napping demigod. It's good to see you, Diallos" The warmth in Elia's smile was a reassuring thing, and Diallos made no comment on the sleeping boy as he took a seat across from her.

"Likewise… we hadn't had much of an opportunity to speak at Lord Rykard's estate." He murmured.

"It did spiral more into stewarding a reunion and introduction for Radagon's family," Elia agreed, "...Have you been well under

Rykard's roof, the cisterns and dungeons were clear of corpses when we made our way into the Manor…and i don't imagine

Patches or Tanith suddenly felt compelled to dispose of the dead."

Diallos shook his head with a wry laugh, "It was my and Rykard's work - the mounds of corpses would only unsettle Rya if they persisted, nor did Rykard wish for his home to remain a festering stye."

A measure of turning over a new leaf, Elia surmised as she raised her brows, "...You've been safe then, despite the man's temperament." An observation, not a question.

"Correct. However, I would sooner ask how you've come to occupy a household of demigods as…well, a wife and mother?" Diallos finally broached the question as he gestured to Miquella, "I wouldn't have expected you to settle between the lovers you held."

Elia's face reddened a bit, replying quickly, "The circumstances were initially incidental, Radagon was not my choice of a consort in our early days traveling together. You would know of unlikely partnerships, if I understand your association with Rya correctly."

"You do." Diallos spoke with a note of pride in his voice, "...I also hear word of your departure and Ofnir's death. How did things go awry in Leyndell, Elia?"

"Morgott and Godwyn have a newly discovered capacity to plot when left alone for five minutes, thus we intercepted them after they slew Gideon in the sewers of Leydnell." Elia deadpanned, "...As for the departure, I'm finally locating a surviving family member. Could I perhaps impose upon you for a favor, Diallos?"

"I spent weeks beating the notion of asking for help into your head, Elia. Yes, what do you need." Diallos replied flatly.

"Keep an eye on things, Miquella particularly." Elia murmured, "There's tension between the twins and… he may be by his lonesome more than he's accustomed to. Don't smother him…just be watchful if you'll be here for the ensuing few days?"

"...I can manage that." Diallos nodded, noting how Elia's fingers carded through blonde locks as an idle motion. Clearing his throat, he asked then, "...Your leg, how is it faring these days?" "It's healed." Elia confessed.

"Pardon - by whom?" Diallos glanced to her leg then and Elia lifted the hem of her dress to the knee. When Diallos had first seen her wound- her leg had the topography of a mountain range, riddled with pitted marks and gashes that never quite healed correctly once she'd imbibed a botched potion to force the wounds to mend.

Now beyond the telltale white lines of fading scars, her leg was intact and the muscle unblemished. Diallos swallowed hard, his gaze expectant as he awaited an answer.

"Radagon was the one to mend the damage his wolves caused." Elia sighed, "It was something of a peace offering after I kept Rennala from gutting him in their reunion."

"...Good, yet does Nepheli know what's transpired since you took the ring?" Diallos asked, "I've not been able to see her in months since I was folded into Rykard's household."

"Sellen relayed the news…but no, I haven't been to Stormveil given I had a promise to uphold. Radagon wished to see if his children had survived, Rykard was the last demigod to account for." Elia murmured, "A visit to Stormveil is long overdue." "I'll accompany you…I regret the prolonged absence." Diallos muttered.

"You and I may be fighting alongside her again as we did in the festival of war, given what could be at our doorstep. Those fortifications aren't for show. Godwyn and Morgott incited a war." Elia grimaced, "I would recommend getting Rya home if Rykard hasn't made preparations to settle here during wartime."

"He won't leave his mother so soon," Diallos shook his head, "If blasphemy does not rattle him, war certainly won't cow him into a retreat."

"Then I encourage you to find lodging in the academy and get settled." Elia replied.

True to her word, Nepheli and her entourage were prepared to depart by sundown. Horses were saddled, two carts loaded with supplies and rations, and a stout carriage was readied at the rear of the train. Godrick had been given a ill fitted pair of boots, trousers, and a tunic. Plain and simple garments fit for travel in a wheelhouse.

It seemed Nepheli had no pretense of making him march or ride, content to have him travel in the least cumbersome method possible when toting about a noble. Shackled at the wrist, Godrick was sharply pushed into the carriage by Darian, the door bolted behind the demigod as he was left to find his bearings in the spartan lodgings of a wooden box.

The Lady of Stormveil was predictably tense as she surveyed the last preparations, entrusting the keep in her absence to Kenneth. The noncombatants of her entourage were the largest point of worry. Rodericka, lovely and sweet as she may be, was no fighter and despite the relative peace, even monsters and petty vagrants could still pose a threat. Godrick was the next point of concern. Nepheli cared little if the man died of a pox, dysentery, or a knife through the bowels. She could only be so lucky as to have the worst of the demigods to die of mundane circumstances and rid her of the nuisance.

Instead, Godrick was of clean health despite his frail stature and persisted through the weeks with surprising stubborness. The twins had been entrusted as his most routine keepers, Darian worked best in the company of his brother…and Devin was an odd sort if left alone for prolonged periods.

Nepheli addressed the elder twin once the door was bolted, "...He's been compliant?"

Darian nodded, moving to the coaches bench as he spoke, "I wouldn't be transporting him anywhere until he was a head shorter, even if he's docile."

"I don't like the thought either. Yet he'll be hung or beheaded if I leave him in the dungeons under Kenneth's supervision or by any guardsmen with half a mind to make an example." Nepheli sighed, "If a mob can rule this keep for even a night, will I ever hold Stormveil without an iron fist afterwards?"

Darian was contemplative at her response, "...No, the cost would be immense, nor would we be seen as anything more than a pen of bloodthirsty Tarnished. Yet, why must my brother and I be dragged to Liurnia?" Dragged to Boyana, he meant.

"You can't avoid her forever." Nepheli countered, "I want the best fighters I have at my side as well. It'll be fine, nor would I leave you to Fia's ire."

"Forgive me for having my doubts when Boyana's consort jabbed a knife into me." Darian hissed, "Returning my brother to me was a kindness, yet it does not absolve Elia of enabling a paranoid necrophile-"

"It doesn't," Nepheli swiftly interjected, "Yet words that abrasive won't help your plight. If you want Fia held accountable, you must be tactful, and choose your words carefully with Elia. She wasn't proud to stand by Fia either after you were maimed."

"Her shame was not enough to dissolve their partnership." Darian murmured, "I am accompanying you out of diligence to a friend, Nepheli, do not overcomplicate things beyond that."

"...I can confront her if you wish?" Nepheli offered, tense and her stomach churning with discomfort.

"Do not burn a bridge you still care to keep for my sake, Nepheli. I wish her no ill will as it stands, I simply hope to make this trip a short ordeal." Darian confessed.

"Understood." Nepheli lightly clasped his shoulder, "Speak to me if you or Devin need anything, alright?"

"As you wish." Darian nodded, eyes forward and dread sitting heavy in his stomach.

Four arms made for a strange embrace when Rykard tugged Ranni into a tight embrace, caring not if it was a form of porcelain and a mop of cold hair so unfamiliar from the tumbling waves of red Ranni once held.

The serpent king murmured then, "...We all festered or lost our flesh in the climb towards glory, didn't we?"

"Radahn rotted, thoust were consumed, I…my body slaked off like an unwanted garment." Ranni shook her head, bitterness apparent and immense in these fleeting moments as she shut her eyes, "...How didst thou survive, Rykard?"

"A serpent never dies." Rykard murmured, "Immortality is an enduring half life, nor can grace purge the entirety of what I did to myself."

Ranni furrowed her brow, eyeing Rykard's clawed hands and serpentine eyes, "Thy constitution is changed, another incarnation of the serpent?"

"...Correct." he nodded as he withdrew, glancing about the quiet lecture hall he had commandeered to speak with Ranni alone,

"When you started your plans, I never imagined this form would be the one you would take."

"Anything less would have still held me bound by the two fingers. Flesh is the finest prison for a god to wrest control of." Ranni exhaled tightly, "...Even then, I miss the trappings of flesh and bone often as of late."

"You were too bright and warm to be a doll." Rykard nodded in agreement, "Yet it does nothing to dim the joy of seeing my sister once more. Mother seems to be faring well…yet how have recent events been for you?"

"Tense." Ranni admitted, "Tis a situation wrought by my own hands however. I assisted Godwyn in his desire to slay a man worthy of death."

"So I've heard. Why is Marika's whelp deserving of your help?" Rykard pressed.

"Twas to repay the debt of his assassination." Ranni murmured, "One I shan't easily be absolved of."

"We understood the cost of throwing Marika's dynasty into chaos." Rykard reached for her hand, "If I couldn't succeed, I would have expected success from your plans however. What happened?"

"I lost the accord I had with my intended, to be a kinslayer is a heavy weight, one that does not inspire trust. Killing Godwyn cost me the trust of my champion." Ranni explained.

Rykard grimaced, "I see. Now I understand why you're this contrite."

"There is no future in repeating the chaos of the shattering." Ranni shook her head, "...Nor can mother suffer another heartbreak."

"...Failure is acceptable, if you've found peace with our mother?" Rykard cocked his head in disbelief.

"Yes, is that such a surprise, brother?" Ranni managed a small smile.

"From the angry girl that was prepared to burn the world that choked out our culture, yes." Rykard murmured, "Yet it does bring me a measure of relief to know you've settled for a tamer existence as I have."

"...I hear thou has a daughter now?" Ranni asked, keen to turn the conversation towards a lighter topic.

"I do…and I would be keen to introduce Rya to her aunt as well as her grandmother." Rykard offered his arm to Ranni then, his eyes brightening at the tentative look of excitement gracing the doll's face.

Late into the evening, the moon high overhead and an array etched in chalk atop the classroom's floor, stood Radagon and Elia. She was braced for the vertigo that would ensue once the chant ended and leaned heavily into Radagon's side as she clasped his hand.

Millicent was to her right, Godwyn to Radagon's left, and between the prince and valkyrie stood Una, the final one in their circle to join hands with them. The runes beneath Elia pulsed first with blue, deepening into a dim purple as the coordinates of the array honed in upon Nokron.

Godwyn was the tensest among them, sending Elia an intense look as he gripped Radagon's hand in a vice.

He had taken the news of Marika's revival in stride, yet the prospect of seeing his mother once more weighed heavily. Stern and uncharacteristically quiet that night, the prince had demanded one promise of Elia that night.

Gathered in the observatory, Radagon had been given the task of informing Malenia by his lonesome, leaving the prince in Elia's hands.

"...What lays in Nokron that cannot be discussed publicly?" Godwyn asked, brows raised and cocking his head at Elia as she tugged him inside and away from Fia.

"A very, very slim chance that we may be walking away with an extra person from Nokron." Elia murmured, "...I have a theory of how to pry Marika out of Radagon's psyche, permanently."

Godwyn tensed, "How do you intend to cleave them when Marika never truly achieved that goal."

"She never made Radagon with the intent of him being singular, not initially." Elia said, "Radagon recounted the loose details of his creation…and Nokron was where it unfolded. The resources in that city are what I need to rebirth your mother, and separate them properly."

"...If that succeeds, what happens then? Is she to be judged, set loose, or exiled? What will happen to her?"

"She's watched like a hawk, but given the same terms as Morgott if she truly wishes to be with her sons." Elia murmured, "I have no desire to torment your mother, Godwyn."

"This ritual could be agony for her, nor is she returning to a world which would grant her any kindness."

"Then be that kindness, if you truly want her back."

"In what world do I not want my mother back?" Godwyn's voice cracked then, "Yet even still I fear for further cruelty she could endure."

"...She's not helpless, nor is she alone." Elia murmured, "Between you and Morgott, would she not be safe?"

The prince's shoulders slumped, and he leveled a firm look towards Elia, "If you're one to meddle with the dead and tampering with my loved ones…I want you to promise me this."

"Ask, what do you want?"

"Fortissax. If you can reconstitute my mother's body…I would ask that you do what lays in your power to mend my friend, if any remembrance of him remains."

Elia swallowed hard, "I…I do possess his ashes, ever since quelling Fia's nightmares.

"Put them to good use, and purify them, please."

"...I can try. I'll need your help with Radagon to find another mimic tear however, one is already due to be used for composing

Marika's body."

Godwyn extended a hand to Elia then, "We have a deal then, Elia."

The last words of the Liurnian chant drew to a close, and the world fell out from under them.

Darkness enclosed their surroundings, cold and nearly wet against their skin as if they were tugged into a depthless ocean. A familiar ache pulsed in Elia's bones as lungs strained against the lack of air and her limbs fought the urge to swim for a nonexistent surface.

The phantom sensation of frills brushed her leg, and her eyes opened for a scant moment in that transient space.

She was alone, clasping nothing but empty water and staring into the starry ocean. Only the undulating silhouette of an unseen creature flitted against the stars, temporarily blotting some from view as it circled the numen.

There was no face to this god, yet blood recognized blood, and the voice that rang against her ears made her want to scream.

Little one, did you think I had forgotten my favorite daughter?

Eyes, too many to count, opened from the stars once sat, and Elia curled in upon herself. Whispering, her hands uselessly closed over her ears, she spoke, "You're as dead as my mother." a mantra she kept repeating until someone shook her shoulders.

Her eyes opened.

Gravity was a real construct once more and vertigo set in finally to make her knees buckle. Radagon swore as he lunged to grab Elia before she hit the floor, eyes wide in alarm as he feared another bout of sickness might loom. Instead his bride seemed to be in a shell shocked state, her skin clammy, eyes unfocused, and blood trickling down her nose.

None of their fellow party members were affected to such an extent. Radagon felt a pounding from his temples, Godwyn held his stomach and was braced against a wall to steady himself. Millicent was faint yet persisting with worry as she watched radagon and Elia intently.

Una was on her feet, still lucid and sporting a faint wobble in her stride as she approached her niece, "Elden Lord - let me have a look at her, please."

Radagon reflexively tensed, narrowing his eyes at Una with an intensifying frown, "Why?"

"Because I see how a Knossian can be fucked in the head when they skirt too closely across a dimensional boundary." Una hissed, pushing ahead to hold Elia's face, "...Rami would know the sensation well, having your third eye forced open as years of disuse. Carry her and follow me."

Una's words made little sense to Radagon, yet he obliged to the sole party who seemed to have their bearings amidst this mess and ascended the black steps of Nokron.

Sword of the Dark Moon: Rami

Nokron was a city of hushed silence, where words were mindfully spoken with little compulsion to fill the silence.

Their sparring was the same, conducted often with thin or elegant blades sooner meant to slice or impale than to crush and demolish bone as a warhammer would. In the waning centuries of his life, Rami had not abandoned his principles as a swordsman.

His curved swords were melodic when they chimed against the rapiers of his sparring partners, an austere pair of twins with pale hair and near ashen skin. Una's wards, and his persistent students.

The girl was of middling skill, managing to roll under his swing and land a gash across his calf. Her brother was less so, too slow and unsteady in his stance, quickly sent tumbling onto his arse as Rami's sword clashed against the rapier. By the end of the match both would likely have been knocked on their backsides and taken inside to have their scrapes and bruises healed, yet their sparring match was quickly brought to a close.

The twins cocked their heads at their mother's approach, growing apprehensive at the sudden blot of red following after the assassin. Rami's throat tightened, his swords held in a white knuckled grip as he stalked forward, "Yours is a face I only hoped to see dead, Elden Lord."

Una's hands caught him by the shoulders, quickly interjecting, "He's not an enemy, not today, beloved."

Rami grimaced, still holding his swords until his eyes fell to the woman the man held. Dark brown locks, olive skin that mirrored Rami's, the same prominent nose and jaw. The man shook his head as he tasted bile, "My niece, why is she in this state, in your arms?"

Radagon exhaled tightly, raking his eyes over Rennala's former knight in open scrutiny. Once sleek black hair was lightly streaked by grey, more lines marked Rami's pretty face. Red eyes still bored into the Elden Lord like a predator sizing up prey, and the resemblance between Elia and her uncle was nearly uncanny. She shared her uncle's lithe build, yet the man stood shorter than his niece, yet despite being dwarfed by Radagon the man exuded danger all the same.

"...Traveling by portal did something to her - her psyche skirted too close to something malign-"

"Hand her over." Rami stepped forward as he cast aside his swords, his tone knowing and sweat beading down his brow.

Radagon complied, jaw set and watching the man intently, "What happened to Elia?"

Rami held Elia close as he said, "We Knossians left our god behind for a reason, Elden Lord. It is a hungry entity, and keeps her daughters close."

Radagon's blood ran cold, "...Daughter in the literal sense?"

"No, but that distinction matters little in the eyes of a god." Rami ground out.

Malenia was not in the training yards wailing away with the sword to banish her troubles. Nor did she grace the library for a respite in the annals of literature and poetry.

The Valkyrie found herself amongst the outlying territory of Raya Lucaria that morning, savoring the peace and crisp air that beckoned days of warmer weather. The last of the snowmelt had subsided and it was through thickening grass and wet mud that Malenia had trodden through. She braced her back to a tree, hands tightly clasped and barely able to scour the dead husk of the Erdtree in the distance.

Soon, terribly soon Malenia and Miquella would no longer be the youngest in the line of Demigods. The trepidation in her father's voice had done nothing to dismiss the certainty of what was to come. He had found a woman he tolerated, perhaps adored at times, and one who treated him with some measure of dignity.

Marika had been unyielding as Mother, Wife, and Goddess. Stern and cold in her grace, raging and scorching those around her behind the facade of court and worship. Malenia hadn't often attempted to understand her progenitor, nor did she wish to. Yet terribly soon, a youngling and the wretched woman would be crawling the land once more.

She wished she could find herself in Finlay's sweet company, sheltered by the boughs of the Haligtree and in the blissful potential they once had before she reduced Radahn and Caelid into a festering sore.

Malenia needed her brother, as greatly as he needed to grow and become the empyrean he was destined to be. Miquella, perhaps the best of them and the closest to grace as Godwyn was before death. Tears were too petty for her to shed, nor were they useful. Malenia simply receded into the silence, a rare and fleeting commodity with the war that loomed.

That silence evaporated as grass crunched underfoot, and the flash of gold locks entered Malenia's periphery.

Miquella quietly sat beside Malenia then, hands tightly braided and clasped atop his knees, "Father told you, I take it?"

"He did." Malenia murmured, too tired to force any venom or disdain behind her words, "Are you happier with the development than I am?"

"It's too complicated for me to feel one emotion about it… I don't know what I would say to Marika, not after all this time, or realizing how deeply her actions poisoned our family." Miquella whispered.

Malenia reached to clasp his hand, "I desperately wish to cave in that beautifully stern face that could never foster anything beyond contempt for me."

"I'd hit her with you." Miquella grit his teeth, voicing rarely heard anger that had been so artfully repressed in godwyn's company.

"A mother you aren't protective of?" Malenia asked, head cocked as she peered at her brother.

"No." Miquella replied flatly, "...Will there be peace when everyone is under one roof?" Would she be peaceful, once she was under the same roof as Boyana?

Malenia stiffly nodded, "...I've drawn my line in the sand. I suppose it will be much as to how she handles Morgott. Distance and benign apathy."

"Morgott is nearly civil these days." Miquella countered.

"I cannot be the first one to not be charmed by Boyana's sanctimonious mothering." Malenia exhaled through her nose, "Enjoy the attention if you wish…I…I shall reckon with that in time, yet do not implore me to open my arms to another maternal presence when the woman scarcely looks older than I."

"Our father scarcely looks older than you." Miquella deadpanned, "Tis the irony of youth I suppose. We look perpetually younger than our years."

"Oh you most certainly resemble your age." Malenia snorted, an undignified sound few else heard beyond her twin.

"I've grown since we returned home!" Miquella huffed.

Malenia's expression turned wistful, and she gingerly carded her flesh hand through his golden locks, "You'll be old enough to squire and learn to fight as most boys do at your age."

An offer, one Miquella tentatively brightened at, "...You were always fearful of me learning to fight or to spar with you."

"I festered and exuded rot then, and you… unaging and delicate, I was wary to teach you…and that cost you dearly." Malenia murmured.

Miquella shook his head, "A sword wouldn't have kept my cocoon safe. Teach me how to use a sword, please?"

"Tomorrow." Malenia murmured, "I would also instruct you in archery, range will suit you best until you've built your strength and endurance."

"Anything you can offer, I would happily learn." Miquella spoke, voicing his olive branch with a tentative smile.

Elia came too with a pounding headache and a persistent nosebleed. Her eyes opened to the sight of silver haired twins, eerily similar to an albinuaric if not for the black eyes of a Noxian.

The girl clutched a pitcher of water, her brother a meeker sort that lingered near her uncle. Rami. Seated by her bed, book in hand and tired russet eyes flicking from the page to Elia, the man murmured a hushed set of foreign words, politely dismissing the twins as they skittered from the room with unnatural silence.

"...Uncle." Elia croaked, her throat tight and her voice parched and splitting. Nervously, she sat upright, pausing when his delicate hand closed over her shoulder.

"Has being away from home made you this formal, niece of mine?" Rami's smile was a wry and rarely shown relic. Like the snap of a bowstring, Elia lurched forward, snaring an arm around his shoulders and pressing her brow to his collar. Rami's breath audibly staggered as his arms closed around Elia's middle, "It's good to see you alive, Magpie - I merely wish I had found you sooner."

The name made her throat close entirely and her face was damp as Rami held her. Her headache still split her skull, and her nose still bled, yet something felt innately safer to be in the presence of family long thought to be gone from the world.

Slowly, Elia found words worth saying, "...Y-You picked a persistent woman to marry, as expected."

A laugh left Rami then, sharp as a jackal's as he bared sharp teeth, "I would count myself so lucky. Consorts for life are not an easy thing to acquire."

Elia swallowed hard, "No, no they are not… where are the others I arrived with, by chance?"

"They were given lodging and asked to wait until we had spoken. I…I have questions, many of them. Firstly, what did you see in the lapse between reality and the void, Elia?"

She gripped fistfuls of his shirt, feeling like the startled child woken in the night being asked to speak of her nightmare, "I saw into the ocean."

A familiar phrase often spoken in her childhood, one Rami nodded with grim clarity, "The beast is kicking again… vocally. Why did you ascend to godhood - do you not know that only stokes her hunger?"

Elia shook her head, "I didn't propose bonding the Elden Ring to my flesh - it was a desperate bid on Radagon's part-"

Rami's eyes narrowed with lethal intent, "Ah. This was his notion of a plan, was it?"

Elia stiffened, "Yes, and it is not something I seek revenge for. I need him, as a companion and a partner. Don't kill him." A realistic possibility, given the fear in Elia's voice.

"...However he ingratiated himself to you, it does not undermine the mantle foisted upon you - Thalassa will consume you if she can bond herself to another vessel. What is the Elden Ring if not another feast?"

Elia swore under her breath, "This was the first she has ever made herself known to me since her summoning-"

"Excuse me?" Rami seethed, drawing back from her with a vice-like grip tightening over Elia's hands, "Elia, what did you do?"

"I…I summoned her once, and gleaned upon the carcass she left. I..I thought it a viable option, something to give us leverage when Rennala was failing as a champion."

"That was never your burden to bear, what happened - how were you not hollowed out like a gutted animal?" he pressed, eyes wide in fear.

Elia dipped her head, "Stripping me of grace was the Greater Will's intervention to displace me. What use was I then, if I couldn't bring a goddess back into the land of the living with a new seat of worship?"

Rami's expression hardened, "Are you finished toying with gods, now that you yourself are one?"

She hastily nodded, "...I am. That leaves us terribly blind as to what to do…or how to safeguard the ring. Please, come back with me, to Liurnia."

Rami's shoulders slumped, "I left that land when I left Rennala for the broken farce she had become. Please, do not ask this of me, not without ample reason."

Elia gingerly took her uncle's hands, muttering, "...I may be expecting, a war looms with the remnants of the perfumers and Omen Killers, and the Frenzied flame lays sealed in Leyndell."

The silence wore on and Rami shook his head as he swore in three languages, "I should have burned every last scrap of scripture we brought with us across the sea. Never left your fate to chance or the meddling of kings and gods."

"...What's done is done, and we finally have the tools to remedy that plight. Please, will you come back with me?" Elia pleaded.

Rami's expression was stern, "Fine. Yet tell me this, is Megathirio still alive?"

Elia's throat closed, "...Father's ashes are interred at Vallis. His body was empty and calcified." "...Damnit." Rami whispered, his tone finally breaking as the man's posture caved.

Radagon paced, lost in his thoughts and restless until Godwyn finally interjected.

"Enough. What will stalking to and fro do to make Elia mend any faster from having her mind reamed by that creature?" Godwyn hissed.

Radagon flicked his gaze to Godwyn, eyes wide, "You witnessed it?"

"...Felt it. Something large and looming, coiled in anticipation." Godwyn murmured, "...I felt it initially when Ranni transported us to Leyndell. Is the void so comparable to the ocean in that sense, listless and filled with beasts primed to feast?"

"I…I didn't feel anything until Elia went slack between us." Radagon murmured.

Godwyn exhaled tightly, "...Enia had a similar sense of feeling hollowed out, a mouthpiece in the moments when the Greater Will required a voice. Do you know what god or worship Elia's folk adhered to?"

"No. Not beyond a niche faith steeped in premonition and cosmology. Elia mentioned their texts and orthodoxy had been lost in the migration."

"Then we ask her surviving family for context, hopefully he can name the beast we saw."

"...She said something strange. 'You are as dead as my mother.' She spoke to that thing - understood it." Radagon shook his head, brows furrowed, "Is she as naive as she initially implied about her religion?"

"It doesn't seem to be a religion she ascribes to." Godwyn sighed, "Don't gnaw a bone with poison in its marrow. She has to awaken eventually, and will be forthright with you now if she wasn't before she became endeared to you." Radagon rubbed his temples, "Alright…"

Millicent was the first to be permitted to visit, ushered in by the austere and pensive man keeping watch over his niece. The resemblance was uncanny.

Olive skin, the same prominent nose, an oval face, and feathery locks, Rami was a close and direct relation to Elia. Red eyes and black hair were the few divisive features, yet ever so slightly broadened the picture of what a Knossian would look like in Millicent's mind.

"...You're close to family, are you not?" Rami asked, plain and direct with his words as he shut the door behind him.

Swallowing thickly, the girl nodded, "Yes sir… Elia has spoken of you before."

Rami shook his head, "I'm not a knight, Rami is fine."

Millicent tentatively extended a hand, "...Millicent is what I'm called."

"...Are you one of the Elden Lord's brood?" Rami's eyes lingered over the uncommon shade of red crowning Millicent, "Most of his ilk by Rennala have similar locks."

"He is my grandsire." Millicent corrected, "Malenia is my mother in the technical sense."

Rami had the grace to not push her parentage any further. "Elia dubs you as a sister, I think she would be inclined to see you first, correct?"

Millicent nodded, hurrying through the chamber's foyer as she broke eye contact. Rami followed a few paces behind, speaking softer as he murmured, "Thank you for the assistance you lent her in the last stretch of her journey. I understand that the quest for the Elden Ring by then had become a mission to see your life prolonged?"

Elia had spoken about Millicent at length then. The girl turned to face Rami, nearly eye to eye with the man, "...Yes, my rot was a festering and growing problem that would not be quelled by the needle forever."

"Thank you for being the family my niece needed, and still needs." Rami inclined his head towards her, not one for physical contact or platitudes.

"Y-You're welcome." Millicent replied, unused to the praise and hurrying her stride to find Elia.

Godfrey could glimpse the peaks of Raya Lucaria in the distance as daylight waned. His bones ached and there was a heaviness in his form that made him keen to slump into a heap by the fire once camp had been established.

Loretta was observant, and eyed him with growing worry, "...We can shorten our trek - The academy is within a days trip now."

"No." Godfrey ground out, "Tis foolish to waste time beyond the necessities of rest and sustenance, not with a horde we've narrowly outpaced."

"I won't march an old man to his death." Loretta pressed, "...What happened, you were unaging once, were you not?"

"The glory of grace is fleeting, and no longer mine to claim." Godfrey shook his head, "Nor is Serosh by my side. I fight by my own strength, however finite it may be now."

"Take a steed tomorrow, we albinuarics are no strangers to taming wolves, I could find one for you before daybreak." Loretta sighed, leaned against her direwolf's side.

"I…that is an offer I will accept." Godfrey nodded, "Thank you."

"Your welcome. Have you given much thought as to what happens when we do arrive?" Loretta asked.

"...I demand answers from Boyana. For her sake she had best have an ample litany to present." Godfrey's expression hardened,

"Tis no small thing to kill the Erdtree and walk away with my bride's glory."

"It may not be as simple as any of us envision." Loretta countered, "I don't mourn that thing or its religion."

Godfrey looked aside, pensive and uncomfortable to discuss the notion further, "...I did not turn my warriors on your people."

"No, but the order you left behind became ever more dogmatic and zealous to attain perfection. We were an aberration to that theology." Loretta reminded, "...Why did you stand by it, when you hardly seem to be a fundamentalist in philosophy or action?"

Godfrey exhaled sharply, "It had to be worth it, to see my sons banished, my wife burdened by the mantle of godhood - I thought to lighten that load, keep her spirits high and secure a future for my son."

"Then you were banished when Marika's conquests came to a conclusion, and her focus turned inwards towards orthodoxy and control." Loretta countered, "Family alone is what allowed for that oversight?" Godfrey's shoulders slumped, "...I venerated my wife, not the god that uplifted her." Loretta said little more, resigned and shaking her head at her realization.

Love had been a binding panacea to the blight and rot of Godfrey's kingdom, and the man had died twice over in its pursuit.

"..Sleep whilst you can, Godfrey. I hope you find more peace in dreams than in memory." Loretta murmured.

"To you as well, Lady Loretta." Godfrey replied, his tone weary.

Fidelity

Chapter Summary

and we finally bring in some expected newcomers to the cast

This was loathsome work, Lansseax gnashed her teeth as claws scored through the binding runes of the Evergaol. Tarnished or no, the pits of the Golden Order's prisons were unbefitting of her companion, who for too long had been beyond her reach.

There stood no god or king to contest her now. The unguarded Evergaol had not been patrolled in months, and the Knight's Calvary's numbers had been thinned by the Tarnished numen. Good riddance, may Margitt choke with his warriors, she thought as the final string of stone runes were sundered by her claws.

Finally, the last of the wards fell and a forceful stomp of Lannseax's leg sent fissures rippling across the stone door of the gaol. Shattered and falling into the pit piece by piece, the obstruction fell away, and the dragon slithered into the crevasse with a keen eye. Alert and intent, she absconded from her flesh of scales, trespassing into the cells with a shell of human flesh and the waifish frame of their women. Bare feet stepped over corpses and skeletal remains, caring little for the half mad denizens left to expire in this darkened pit.

Fire would be a fitting method to end this dungeon with, she thought, jaw set and finally calling out, "Vyke, you'd best be alive!"

The distant clank of chains was her response, further down the spiraling stairs of the pit. At its base, chained to the floor was the man himself. Vyke's armor had lost its shine of old, burnished by a flaming grip and tarnished with age, the man strained to raise his head as Lansseax approached.

The dragon eyed her knight with quiet rapture, descending the last few steps and taking his face in hands that felt too fragile and spindly. Vyke exhaled softly, the sound reverbing through his helm as he whispered, "Why…why are you here?"

"I did not grant you my blessing only to see you discarded as haphazardly as a broken sword." Lansseax replied evenly, "I would sooner ask how you found yourself in a communion with a god as foul as the Frenzied Flame?" Vyke visibly flinched, biting his tongue and awaiting his companion's ire.

"Words may fail you, but I shall not." Lansseax flicked her serpentine eyes to Vyke's chains, "Hold still, I don't wish to harm you."

Vyke scarcely had the time to tense before Lannseax's true strength betrayed the facade of her false form, rending the chains apart as easily as breaking a twig in her delicate hands. As he rubbed his chafed and festering wrists, Lansseax was quick to grab his shoulder, tugging the man after her as she ascended the steps, "Come, Altus may be devoid of the omen and his knights, yet greater things fester in Leyndell, and the stray tarnished are like maggots to a corpse."

Vyke didn't have the strength to fight her, yet he breathlessly asked, "...Margitt was unseated - by whom?"

"Greater than that, the Erdtree is withered, and the ring at last claimed." Lansseax uttered the words with a faint tremor in her voice, "I know not of what comes next, yet your cell finally stood unguarded, and I would not leave you forgotten and festering."

Vyke dipped his head with a shuddering sigh, the words barely above that of a whisper, "Thank you."

"Come, Farum Azula is perhaps the one place I would expect us to find shelter as a war brews." "...War, between whom?" Vyke furrowed his brows.

"Liurnia and a warband of Tarnished that occupied Altus, the mages seem to have organized themselves around a new champion." Lansseax murmured, "Tis not my concern or care to deal with them until their squabbles are done." "I would care to know what transpires in the world, if we at last have an Elden Lord?" Vyke pressed.

Lansseax's expression hardened, "A lord of a fractured age is beneath our concern. Margitt still lives, I doubt he would let you roam free if he learns of your release."

"Then let the omen try to fight and survive a dragon." Vyke retorted, "Please. Indulge me in this, then I am yours."

What was a dragon, if not a hungry and intense will in restless pursuit to possess the object of their fixation? Lansseax fixed her gaze on Vyke, "...I won't bring you to a warfront as you are. I will do my part, yet the most pressing matter is allowing you the time to mend."

Vyke offered no protest and merely clasped her hand for support as they continued their trek towards the surface.

Mohg silenced the writhing of an omen killer with a final jab of the trident through their gruesome mask. Cold disdain marked the Lord's features, tempered only by the faint pride he felt as Varre slit the throat of a tarnished with his scalpel. Red bloomed in a font from the gash as the nameless tarnished fell in a limp heap. There was an art to slaughter, a grace in the motions of the labor.

Never did Varre look so resplendent as when he stood anointed in the blood of a fresh corpse.

They were close now, the highlands of Leyndell beginning to transition into softer bogs and flooded marshlands. Unfortunately, they encountered an increasing number of perfumers or tarnished in scattered bands. No leader helmed this gorce, and their fragmented state made them cumbersome yet easy enough to pick off if one possessed the element of surprise.

One could only imagine the chaos of a horde descending upon an organized cabal of mages. If Mohg was a betting man, he would sooner anticipate the mages withstanding a siege. A siege would make infiltration a difficult thing, a waiting game as one enemy starved out the other, presuming a force this disorganized could properly hold an embargo longer than a month.

"Attrition will be a long wait." Mohg murmured, "One I do not care for."

Varre held his tongue, not willing to risk defiance again in such a short span of days with his lord.

"...My own face is one not readily seen or remembered." Varre spoke softly, "Allow me to be thine eyes and ears in the city before we intervene?"

Mohg held his chin in contemplation, "...The idea is agreeable, tread with caution, Varre. I have no wish to see thee dead at the hands of our Tarnished or her rotting companion."

"Boyana will only know a slit throat when I see her next." Varre grimaced beneath his mask.

"Good." Mohg's voice welled with pride.

Rykard frowned at the sight of Sellen stalking Raya Lucaria's halls, side eying the woman when he asked, "Tell me, what flattery did Boyana bestow upon my mother for her to tolerate your presence here, Graven Witch?"

In the witches' hands was a tightly clutched box, sealed and locked with a glintstone array. Sellen's expression tensed, and she shouldered past Rykard with an exhausted scoff, "Pester me later, serpent."

He bristled at the dismissal, gold eyes flicking to Sellen's hands, "At it again with your experiments, too steeped in your work to pry into the cosmos a