Messmer stared at your fallen form, asleep. The way your skin contrasted the plumes of the young flowers was no competition. The flowers could not compare to your beauty. Your beauty, your beauty was your own, not of the Erdtree or your parents' faces for you had freckles, moles, and scars of your own making. It rivaled that of the most ethereal muses themselves.
A lifted finger caressed your cheek, using the back of his knuckle instead of a cruel claw to feel your softness beneath his rough scales. Despite your years of grueling labor and swordsmanship, your skin was not marred with rough scales like he. It only made him notice the utter difference between you two.
But he didn't care, he adored your mortal nature, even if you insisted, he would protect you.
The snake prince would've never conceded the fact that his enemy who brashly entered his prison would become his affection. A peasant-borne no less, but you proved him wrong; smarter, stronger, and kinder with purer blessing than the Erdtree. Perhaps some people were wrong about people like you.
The red haired prince leaned close enough to catch a wiff of your hair and natural scent. Looking upon your quiet face made him think about your love at all. Did you love him? Did he scare or disgust you with his grotesque body? For he was so... burrowed with snakes, elongated arms that reached his knees, a single eye that struggled with depth perception.
Were you ordered to like him from the start?
But his feelings could not be sheltered and he had to admit harbored feelings if he will be your husband one day.
So he whispered into your uncovered ear,
"One day, I will marry you."
His prickly nose nuzzled the crown of your head in substitution for a heartfelt kiss. "I will make your fingers carry brushes of paint and laurels of flowers instead of swords. The Lands Between will hear of your artistic exploits than your killings. I will make your days occupied with love and... a family of our own if you so wished."
No mortal will ever marry Messmer the Impaler. Marrying him would be like marrying a bonfire, jumping into his love would burn you alive. But you wouldn't burn like them all; you understood the heat of him, the space needed to be safe, the passion he would carry if he would confessed.
But the day of sun dimmed into moon, it was time to head back to Leyndell.
.
Late into the night, you traveled from your quarters under the guise that you were patrolling. But you took a different route from your usual pathway; you took into the direction of Messmer.
Unknowing of shadows who followed you.
Messmer waited for you, eagerly (anxiously) pacing around hidden corridors to see you again. He had a terrible feeling inside his chest that something went wrong. He shushed his snakes from making any hisses at all, it would wake somebody up, but they weren't listening tonight. They hissed and tugged him away from the hideaway as if begging him to leave now.
"Halt it, thou annoyance unwarranted," he sternly admonished them. But the snakes hissed at him and one even snapped at his face. His friends never done before, unless it was really serious.
Something was wrong.
Obeying his intuition, he briskly jogged down the corridors yet his pace transformed into a sprint.
It had to be a simple error on the snakes' part, they were intelligent but anyone can get something wrong. You were competent and capable, if something were to try and hurt you then you wouldn't go down without a fight. You would most certainly get him if things out of hand.
He turned a corner and...
Saw you bloodied red.
Guards, physicians, magicians, even Marika's close council order was there. Hovering around your body impaled with bloods in your throat, wrists, thighs, abdomen, your face.
You were dead.
.
It's been a decade or so since then, Messmer had been granted his own army and made many close friends. But even after those absent years of your love, it was empty inside his wounded heart. No man, woman, or anyone could be you. He tried to forget it all, but his heart could not.
In his chambers decorated with the veneration of medals, paintings, and rare treasures sitting around like a museum than any comforting room. There was little comfort in these cold items collected by admirers. Often escaping to the private balcony away from friends or family to think. And think he did, when he looked beyond the walls and at the hidden meadow you called a getaway.
"What did I do wrong? Why couldn't I save (name) in time? Why didn't I save them? Why was I so..."
Stupid.
That haunted him. If only he ran after you. If only he was seconds earlier! Or listened to his snakes! Or just clung onto you for far longer! He could be right in your arms right now.
Right now...
Right now....
Right now.....
"Brother!" A cheerful voice pierced his darkness and he saw his half brother. Godwyn the Golden, a replica of Marika if she was as happy as he; she was often gloomy these days as if an apparition haunted after her.
"Brother, what business thou have with I?"
"You can talk mildly now, we don't have to be so formal." Godwyn humorously bumped shoulders with Messmer who grunted, his snakes hissing in warning at the blondie.
The warmonger sighed and cleared his throat as formally as possible. Which made Godwyn laugh.
"Yes? What do you need?" Messmer indulged adequately just as Godwyn beamed.
"The look on your face, it tells a sober man anything a sad man will never confess. I known you long enough to tell what bellies under your sullen face. It's different from your usual sadness." Godwyn's smile turned serious.
"I suppose it is." Messmer looked at Godwyn. Knowing that the golden son would never leave him alone until Messmer gave it up. For Godwyn knew Messmer was a sensitive soul who cared for albinaurics, deviants, and lowly soldiers. Messmer was not like Godwyn who was blessed; he was bereth of the Erdtree's favor yet he was kind. Godwyn figured it was the snake's own plight that softened his soul to the less fortunate.
"It's about someone is it not?" Godwyn said.
Messmer nodded.
"A... close friend of mine. I often... dream of them even when they're lost from my path. They were someone you had to meet personally; opened my soul despite what hatred I harbored. They created the best version I could be."
Messmer gripped the balcony rails, resisting the urge to break down in front of Godwyn.
"The only regrets I have is... not saying anything to proclaim my appreciation for them."
Messmer closed his eye, licking his dry lips from the hard decision left in the past.
Godwyn exhaled through his nostrils, taking in this sensitive information, looking beyond the walls to the lands.
"They sounded beautiful."
"They were beautiful, even if I cannot see them."
"What was their name?" Godwyn asked slowly.
"...."
Godwyn took this as a sign to not push further than what Messmer disliked.
"I'm always right here, brother. If you need me, let's talk soon."
Was all Godwyn said before turning on his heel and leaving with soft footsteps.
.
Messmer painted alone when he had downtime, this was the only way to connect to you. His strokes as powerful as his wield, graceful as a dancer, colors as bright as ember, passionate like dedication to the Golden Order itself. Strokes went above the line, beyond the charcoal black stroke they called limits. He painted.
Painted.
Painted.
Painted.
Yet he could never get you right.
The color was all off, it made you look dead when your skin was actually full of life. The shapes were crooked, each contour and angle he slathered made you look like a completely different person. Every error made him lose confidence.
Every wrongness of you made him think back to that night. You were supposed to be remembered fondly yet he could not past his grief.
He didn't want to forget what your beauty entailed. Who you actually were. If you survived, would you have been the same person those years ago? Would you love him still?
Would you have been old and grey with him? He barely aged a day since your death, a genuine smile rarely marked his lips; only stitched up when he was nobly spoken with. Wrinkles did not crease him for there nothing to smile at.
The center of the piece was wet yet he dragged his finger against the center, the red paint staining his ivory finger. A portrait he'll tear again.
"I will never forget you."
.
But Messmer the Impaler will not know how much lonely he will become at the expense of his mother's plans. For he, the monster who scorched the Hornsent, was imprisoned for his crimes down in the Shadow's Keep.
There was no Godwyn, Melina, Marika, Gaius, or anyone to say.
Sometimes, the impaler wished he was mortal. If not for the desire to love and die with a beloved one, but the desire to cease his own life. Sometimes he wished he never agreed to the conquests at all.
He paced around his prison once more.
It was round.
Circular.
Oculus.
Dark.
Waxing.
Quiet.
Loud.
The throne was too quiet, too loud; as if the weight of his bloodied crown weighed heavily on him. Closing his eye, he could almost hear the cheering and the jeering below his feet. He wished he could hear nothing.
"Mother... what could this cursed being do to ensure favor with thee?" A whisper to apathetic oblivion. A desperate plea to no one.
Seconds and seconds of cruel silence. Just as when he thought he was going to be heard.
The doors creaked and for once he perked up in zeal. It had to be his mother. Or Godwyn! Or Melina! Gaius! Or... perhaps you?
Surely it could not be you, you who was so right and perfect and beautiful and—the one who ever truly loved him. How dare he didn't fight for you. And you paid the price for it. Punishment awaited his actions, if not death than the sublime absence of your love.
Oh, your love, a pure thing he soiled with his cursed birth. Come again, come and relieve his suffering once more and he'll make it up to you with fire bright enough to burn the Erdtree itself.
The grand ebony doors whined with footsteps sounded in golden fog. A warrior entered through, apparel and scent in that of a Tarnished. Shrouded in a helmet and guarded by mysterious cloaks.
Messmer stood up, picking up his trident spear just as he jumped down. Candles lighting up the arena from the hand of his emboldened blaze. The snakes inspected the intruder, a slight hesitation to their behavior before coming back to Messmer.
Immediately he jumped to the sky, emitting a ring of fire around him as he crashed at the Tarnished one. He growled when the Tarnished evaded his maneuvers.
He launched forward, sprayed a rain of fire from his fingertips at the knight. Striked at the Tarnished with 5-6 quick slashes. Released a blast of spears piercing through the ground, a flaming web to catch them. An bursting ring of flame to burn.
The Tarnished was quick; skipping over his dance, advancing, backpedalling, blocking, deflecting. Like a practiced routine.
His observant eye narrowed at the movements, a ringing bell of nostalgia singing inside him. Yet his distraction costed him.
He gagged on curddling blood as the sword pierced through his abdomen. Coughs of blood. The Abyssal Serpent coaxing him to release them!
No Tarnished or enemy ever gotten this close, except for you.
It shocked him, he had to be dreaming if it was you. If it was you, why were hurting him? His trembling fingers released his spear. The Tarnished's scent smelled so familiar, the grip on their sword, the poised stance they took on. Was he hallucinating? Was this release from his sins?
His hands could never hit you, ever. He'd rather lay down his life just for you.
"(Name)..." He rasped.
Just when the sword unsheathed from his bowels.
.
The Erdtree, tried as it might, could not beckon him.
He woke up with a start, his eye adjusting to the darkness. Realizing that he was still here in this prison of his. Yet tender fingers soothed his injury, his eye naturally grazing up the path of freed hands gone of gauntlets to shoulders to your face. He couldn't believe it at all.
You were alive like the days prior the night he lost you, a little older now, but as lovely as you always were.
"(Name)," he breathed. His snakes licked at you before affectionately curling around you like pets who missed their owner.
You looked at him quietly as if you didn't recognize him.
Before your lips turned into a sensitive smile.
"Messmer." Your words soaked in sadness and yearn.
He moved to sit upwards but hissed at the pain in his stomach. Growling before reluctantly laying down again. But he felt your softer fingers cup his rough grey cheeks; by the Erdtree, he missed your touch. He sobbed into your palm, nuzzling it like it was his savior.
"Thou art alive... and to think I would kill thee." His gaze fell from your face, shame written over it before you caressed his cheeks.
"Don't," you whispered faintly, "You didn't know it was me."
He noticed the faint tears under your eyes, dried with clear marks that you wiped it off. Your face was touched by his clammy hand and yet he was gentle, bringing you close to him that your face was inches away from him.
"Don't cry for me, I know why you did it. Don't apologize." Dying from impalement to his abdomen wouldn't kill him. Yet he understood that you were scared of him. He silently vowed to never do that again.
He didn't kiss you, he brought you into a hug instead. Longer arms curling around you like a blanket comforting your fears away. He just wanted to hold you again.
And time froze when the both of you went quiet.
Finally, you pulled back.
"This is where you've been?" You sounded tired.
"I'm sorry," he said softly and caressed your cheek, running a finger over your newest scar. "I should've refused the conquests mine mother sent me to. Should've left this dreadful place. Should've left Leyndell the moment you died..."
"...That night?" You inquired like you forgot it before recognition sadly lit up your eyes. "Messmer. That night. That unfaithful nighttime getaway, I was ambushed. Ambushed by my fellow knights who accused me of seducing... you. I managed to escape to Godfrey's army after they placed a dead body in my place to trick you.
But I... became Tarnished."
His expression faltered from the suffering you underwent. But he put away his feelings for a moment to comfort you instead.
"No, no, no... Thee are no Tarnished to me. You are mine (name). You are my one and only, blessed or nought." He reassured you. You radiated gold even if you were 'tarnished', greater in light than any gold the Erdtree can glow. "Hither here, close to my lips."
You leaned closer and he spoke softer than flower petals.
"I only want you. You are radiance. You are strength. You are intelligence. You are beauty. You are mine to protect and to indulge. If thou would accept me, then thy life shall be mine as much mine is yours. Thy are my love."
His face lingered on your face for any reaction.
"I love you too." You blushed.
You looked away, obviously embarrassed by this show of vulnerability. If there was anything scarier than dragons or primordial gods, it was bleeding your feelings in a time of cruelty.
But Messmer smiled, a crinkle in his eyes.
"Let me stay with you, let me come with thee, let me follow where you shall visit and let me be thy flame." He took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it in a courtly manner. "Allow this demigod to properly court you as you deserve."
You smiled at him and kissed his forehead.
.
Sometimes your meet cute involves impaling your beloved's abdomen after a few decades.
You did not understand why you were assigned knight to this shadowy prince. For most and many, he did not exist at all other than a quiet bump in the bloodline of Queen Marika. You were a simple soldier devoted to the cause of the queen, but your first orders?
To... acclimate this son of hers.
You weren't stupid, you knew the quiet reason why she asked this of you. As a 'lowlife', you were expendable to the nobility and she expected you to die perhaps to her son's irrational moods. Maybe it was a grand plan.
His chambers in a forgotten wing, his quarters seemed to be in some sort of disarray. Like no one knew anyone of importance was here. The corridors in the far reaches of the golden palace were swamped and dirtied as much as a prison yard could be. Walls cracked and torn like a siege had been taken place, shattered windows laying like fallen leaves to cut a poor pup's paws, and water droplets making your nose scrunch up. Additionally, the wonderful scent of mold making you sneeze.
Regardless, you nodded your head.
Regardless, you stepped through the dilapidated hallways and paused in front of gated doors; bars of rusty iron, large doors about nine feet tall, a keyhole not like anything you've seen before. You took out a key from your satchel, sighing as the golden key seemed to silently torment you.
"Have this key and press onwards down the catacombs, until thou serve him well may he come out."
You kept repeating that mantra over and over again, you didn't want to mess this up despite this depressing situation. Where you could possibly die to a hidden son who's a monster and an entire bastard to the Golden Order. Being a babysitter wasn't what you signed up for, but you might as well.
The key slotted inside easily and you turned it, the rusty doors making you jump slightly from its hellish screeching. But your hand quickly fell from your sword's hoister just as you opened the gates. You glanced around the hallways like someone was watching your screwups; you rolled your eyes and tried to calm the embarrassing heat in your face.
"No one saw that," you muttered.
You opened the gates then opened the grand doors itself, it felt like a bunch of stubborn donkeys. But finally it gave way and you slipped in through a crack good enough for you. It shut behind you, making a large thud echoing down the black fog of the stairwell.
A quiet hissing came from the shadows, daring you.
You gripped onto your sword and walked down the mossy steps. The waters from the algae vegetation seeping into your shoes and making you groan in frustration. You just got these...
But forgoing fashion, you followed the wicks of fire in the small alcoves in the walls. Small marble knight figurines disfigured by clumps of white candlewax, fire melting wax building up the white gowns the knights inadvertently scored. For a moment you thought it was ash, but it was black dust built up over years of lack of maintenance.
The candles felt like a initiation to your doom, invisible cultists coaxing you to walk the sacrificial line of death to a serpent god. Erdtree, it made you repulsed by the queen's orders; for snakes and flame itself were enemies to the Golden Order. Perhaps the secret quest was to eradicate this being at all.
It felt like hours when you logically knew it was minutes. Minutes until you finished the long walk and stood... in front another pair of doors. Sighing, you pushed forward and opening the mountainous doors once more.
.
Inside, you were greeted by a... frugal room. No lavishing silk sheets or curtains to be found, no fancy golden candleholders or golden trays with porcelain cups, no paintings or armory depicting greatness of a godson. No, there was only a torn red bed, a chest, and a pale man with red hair.
Or was he a man at all?
You stepped back from the fear he possessed. Like an innate warning inside you. Blazing hair with rage induced colors and flames hotter than the candles you past by; skin pale and gray like the ash and dust waiting for centuries to come. A yellow serpentine eye left on a face that was handsome if not for the snakes that hovered around him, burrowing out of his harrowing body like a vessel of destruction.
The snake prince hissed and lunged at you with inhumane speed. Dust and debris following his sudden grace.
You fell on your back just as he hovered over you dangerously. His fangs gleaming just above your face. Crimson red snakes inspecting your person with curiosity; fire growing from the scorches imprinted on his oily skin.
"WHO ARE YOU?" He growled with a hiss in his throat.
For a moment your ability to speak was gone. Rage in his face, his missing eye, teeth snapping at your sudden movements. There was no hesitation to kill you. Even if he was gauntly handsome.
"I..." you cleared your throat, "I was the one sent to bring... you freedom!" You blurt out because from the looks of it, he doesn't look like he needed a knight. You did.
"Freedom?" He cocked his head at you, a snarl on his face in disbelief. "Freedom from here? Mine freedom is required here. Do you even see me? I am an ACCURSED THING! I belong down here for my own sins! Don't lecture me on freedom!" His burrowing snakes hissed at you.
You lifted a hand to try and appease him even if it did nothing for him. Since freedom isn't obviously working time to go with your second plan.
"Queen Marika the Eternal wanted your freedom!" You said and he stopped suddenly. Your words rattled something inside him as if a switch was turned.
"She... wanted my freedom...?" He whispered desperately, slowly getting off of you to ponder this sensitive information. His single eye staring at you.
You got up, dusting yourself off gently.
"Really though... your mother wanted to see you up with her in her golden palace of glory and power. She wanted you to be by her side. She sent me to request your presence."
The sharpened angles of his face softened like he was reborn again, someone wanted to see him and it was his mother of all people. He had only seen her sparsely visited him.
Then his voice become more desperate.
"What can I do to see her again?"
You sighed and resisted to roll your eyes, he seemed to had an anxious attachment to his mother. But nonetheless, you had a job to do.
"Queen Marika had given me a list of things to help you... acclimate into the golden palace better."
.
For what it was worth, it was actually quite nice being with the flame prince of the Erdtree. Before you, he seemed like a hermit, hiding back inside his pretty little shell if the Erdtree-touched breeze licked him. But now, he seemed like a different person; he was strong and quick on his feet with a spear in his left hand. He recovered with Erdtree gold, his pale skin regaining a healthier shade with blemishes and freckles. His red hair stopped falling out and actually poofed up slightly like a rose bush.
His little snake friends seem to be shedding better and possessed shiner scales than their scarred ones. They loved tangling you up though, which made you have an injury or two on occasion, but that was fine. They were cute little snakes.
You taught him the more gruesome side of your labor, you helped him develop his unique fighting style and sparred with him if generals weren't around. But he often begged you to spar alone. One time, he showcased his fire to you during a secret sparring session. And he said, "I don't trust the others, but I trust you."
Often, he invited you to his princely etiquette lessons fit for a son of Marika. You're technically not supposed to be there, those scholarly rooms with fine golden marble columns and walls fit with libraries you are forbidden to be literate in. Regardless, Messmer (as soon as he learned to spell and write his own name, he told you; then he taught you how to write your own name) brought you with him much to his royal tutor's displeasure.
.
Another lesson of the day, painting. Particularly the fine arts.
"Thou art exceptional," he spoke softly to you, his practiced aristocracy coming out of his throat.
"This is nothing," you said humbly. But really the brush in your hand manipulated the paint like a fine tuned violin. The flicks, the dabs, the unafraid strokes in your powerful grip was like your sword in battle; slashes painting the white canvas crimson red and zircon orange.
You've been caught up on your painting, this was your hidden skillset. If you were not a knight, perhaps you would've been an artist in another dream.
"Nothing? Mine own rather lacks in thou passion for it," he muttered. You glanced at his painting and you stifled a laugh, to be kind it didn't look so bad. It was just lacking... ferocity. His painting was as if he was scared to go above the line, just meeting the bar with adequate content than risking ruin to create perfection. Stiff and afraid even after what he accomplished.
But even if his painting spoke a hidden truth unwilling to stand, his face said otherwise. He smiled at you, a head tilted, mischievous yet genuine for you. Even if he couldn't get the hang of it, he was happy for you.
"That's a dumb smile," you teased him.
His cheeks flush red easily and he sputtered.
"It's not dumb!" His highborn accent lost in favor of the one before rebirth. His snakes wiggling as if in total opposition to his fluster.
You snickered under your breath and almost dropped your paintbrush. "I'm kidding... it's obviously, a very pretty one."
As if he couldn't be more flustered, his controlled grip lost control of his paintbrush and accidentally tore into his painted canvas. The both of you froze in shock just as the royal tutor came stomping over to you both.
"What happened!?" They shouted.
You both stammered but the royal tutor glared at Messmer. The glint in their eyes silently affirming their private opinions of the snake prince.
"Did you do this!?"
"I—" You interrupted Messmer by stepping in front of him.
"It was my fault, I provoked him, I'm sorry." You said firmly.
The royal tutor trampled into your space and pushed you back. You rose your armored fist only force it back down by your side, hardening your face as the tutor roared.
"You snake-lover! You disobedient miscreant! I knew there was something wrong with you! I knew Queen Marika shouldn't trust a peasant—!"
A clawed hand gagged the tutor's throat; Messmer choked them with an intense glare. The snakes hissed with enlarged fangs at the tutor's paled face devoid of blood.
"Lay on hand on them and I'll KILL you!" Mesmmer roared.
The tutor coughed and clawed at Messmer's steel hands; purple veins pulsing weakly in his grip. You grabbed Messmer's hand to tug him back to reality.
"Messmer! Don't kill them! Stop!" You shouted.
"They wanted to hurt you! They—" Messmer's enraged voice quieted when they saw your frightened face. You never made that face to him after his rebirth, only when you first met him.
"I..." Messmer dropped the tutor down carelessly, making the elder groan in pain, just as the red-haired prince stared into his hands. Shaking and pale like an undead, heartless being. He ran out of the room, the slamming of the doors echoing behind him.
.
"Messmer!" You shouted into the open field, just some unnamed place where the two of you took company in. It was a perfect place to hide away forever. "Come on, it's me! You know I'm not angry! I'm just worried for you! I would've killed the tutor too—but ah, let's talk!"
Silence.
Only the softness of the winds bellowed into the thistles and melody flowers of the ponds. The sound of crickets and frogs, a stormy weather dulling the natural vividness of the highlands on a perfect day.
Then a familar hiss.
You looked around the place, for a big flame-ridden demigod, he could hide easily. You glanced up and saw him staring down at you; sullen and frustrated with him. Red hair wet like blood like he really did kill the tutor.
"I didn't mean to do it," he said, "I... don't like it when people pick on you. It makes the Abyssal—no, it just makes me angry."
You gulped quietly and stepped forward to meet his unwavering form. You began with an understanding approach.
"I'm tougher than that Messmer, come on I'm a knight for Erdtree's sake... I won't be beaten that easily. But I appreciate you standing up for me like that, no one has done that for me." Truly after spending time with him, your hatred for his snake-born nature ceased to exist. His gift for flames had only grown you closer to his sincerity.
"But it's only because you stopped the tutor first." Guilty poured over his face as he turned to look away.
"Because you deserve to be protected Messmer, I know you've been sheltering yourself forever without mortal eyes, but I'm here. As your friend. I shouldn't had provoked you like that, I'm sorry. But I don't mind sticking up for you—mortal or demigod, you're Messmer to me! You're my friend!" You proclaimed proudly and took his hot hand to snap him out of it, the chill of yours froze him.
He eas surprised your suddenness, feeling embarrassed. But your open dedication rattled his walls...
And just like that, his sullenness seemed to have dwindled. He slowly kneeled to the ground to meet your eyes, his desire to meet at your level despite his demigod height. His snakes hovering over to wrap around your arms and torso, pulling you closer... before his arms embraced you tightly. Pushing you against him like a lost trophy and just enough to make you some air.
You lifted your arms and tied them around his neck, resting your face against his hair of fire.
"You're my one and only," he whispers.
.
Inside the golden court, a queen and her advisors stand near. The incident had not gone unnoticed.
"Pairing a peasant-borne and a snake together is... a concerning idea, your majesty. Earlier, they conspired and assaulted the royal tutor. The peasant provoked Prince Messmer into attacking it seems. It seems like the peasant holds a tight leash over the snake. My queen, might I suggest some more... assuring measures?"
YES YES YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR DARK SOULS (I didn't realize it was a last minute addition to that one period)
Could you do general romantic HC's for Pontiff Sulyvahn? He's *such* an irredeemable bastard, and is genuinely the only souls character (Aside from Elden Ring's Mohg, but they're completely separate universes, and maybe an exception for Adrich) that's actually just pure evil. No gray morality or anything. If you don't mind, could you also do a small tidbit on how he'd treat a Crossbreed!Darling? Thanks again, I love your work so much
I tried my best to research and not call upon Dark Souls Anon for this so I hope I did good. Sorry it's short, I wasn't sure what to add :(
Yandere! Pontiff Sulyvahn with Crossbreed! Darling
Based on what my research has told me, Sulyvahn would be nearly impossible to flee from.
Through charisma, sorcery, and exploitative behavior... Sulyvahn managed to conquer an entire holy city and more.
Once he did so, he created monstrosities through magic and made many of his loyal pets.
Not only that, but he created a magical barrier around Irithyll, one to prevent anyone from leaving or entering unless they were given a certain doll.
I imagine you'd be a crossbreed related to Gwyndolin and Yorshka.
One that has draconic features like other crossbreeds shown (I do believe this is what you meant?)
Sulyvahn would imprison you as his form of courting.
Based on who he is and what he's done in lore, you're yet another pet.
Except, you are no experiment or made a monster by a special ring.
Sulyvahn wants to keep you as you are, weak and at his mercy.
Sulyvahn loves power.
He has twin blades and ridiculously powerful spells at his disposal.
By the time you meet him, he doesn't speak much.
He doesn't have to... his presence exudes an intimidating amount of power.
You're no doubt kept with him at the cathedral, surrounded by holy images and readings... yet held hostage by such an unholy and tainted being.
Can you even call Sulyvahn a man?
He's far from it... He's a monster...
A monster who keeps you as a little pet, under the guise of courting you.
No, every touch he gives is far from loving.
You're a trophy of his conquest, especially as a crossbreed.
His touches are rough, yanking you against his chest when not busy ruling.
Like a doll in the hands of a reckless child.
The very few words he says come out as mocking, all taunts about your siblings.
How's it feel, draconic offspring?
How's it feel to know your brother is being devoured alive?
How's it feel to know your sister is being locked up all alone without you?
If anything, aren't you the luckiest of them?
You get to be with your new ruler.
Through marriage, you'll be his cute little pet.
The time of your family has ended.
It ended long ago.
Sulyvahn uses the fate of your family to taunt you into submission.
He enjoys seeing you shrink away.
You can't go anywhere and you know it.
You'd need the Pontiff's permission...
He'd never do that.
No, to Sulyvahn you belong beside him.
You're his to adore, his to coo at while he mocks you.
His cute little crossbreed to toy with.
Bringing a God to their knees, it's the ultimate power play to him.
You're adorable to him....
It's euphoric to see your fear when you see all the people that used to roam the city become monsters due to that dreaded false flame.
While everyone suffers, Sulyvahn insists on holding you close.
He claims as his spouse... his partner... he'll give you anything but freedom.
He has the power to demand.
Anything he wants, he gets.
He's already caused worse fates than just bloodshed.
If he wants to spoil you for your good behavior, he'll find a way.
Your life may not be the same as your siblings... but it's your own personal hell...
Especially since you're forced to play spouse to the monster who exploited this mess.
You're forced to be the imprisoned cross breed stuck in a cathedral...
Stuck as the pretty spouse for the Pontiff tyrant... the very same one who's holding your siblings captive to earn the obedience of you and the entire city.
"You don't understand!" He roared at you, his voice shaking the trees around you both. He bared his red teeth at you with a grim grin you knew was sad.
"You..." he breathed through his jagged maws. "...We can't be."
He sounded...defeated, like a man who accepted his fate. His eyes were glistened with water. His large form hunchback as he stared down at you like he was trying to communicate his dread.
"Why don't you run?" He whispered raspily like sand paper. "Why can't you just...leave me alone? Why do you...get near my teeth?"
He growled lowly before his face came closer to you. His snout bloodied with gore and iron like he dipped it in water, the smell too metallic. Eyes too frenzied to be considered human, pupils small and bug-like.
But he froze, when you raise your hand; you touch his face, his cheek matted with black fur and sticky red blood.
He flinched back like your touch was fire to his sensitive flesh. His ears struggling to stay upright and not be pinned. His tail softly swaying from side to side. His brows furrowed, struggling to stay up or down, like an inner battle to accept you was terribly difficult.
"Don't get near," he growled once more, but there was less bite this time. He didn't want you gone.
You get closer to him, your hand lifted and slowly...you touch his heart, the plain beige scars slashed over his chest like a knife that scored a fish.
No, you wouldn't allow him to go, you wanted to show him how much you wanted him to know of your love. You wanted to reassure him that you wouldn't go.
Finally, you lie your head on his chest, your ears gently pulsing from the light thumps his heart drummed.
"You don't have to do this alone," you muttered softly, "Allow me to help you."
Your words...your words that moved ships like a goddess of the breeze, you kissed his heart gentler than life could. Your words unlike those that scorn him each time they, those "civilized", saw him.
As much as he wanted to come to hate–you, your actions that should've gotten you killed, hurt, or worse.
He couldn't bring himself to hate you, when you were...like this.
He knew you were always so nice...to him. Even if he was this thing, a hideous thing they say, you were so kind to offer sincerity.
Your weapons not of steel or iron, but words.
He should leave you while he could, while he could run from you, you didn't deserve something lowly nor did he deserve you.
And yet, you're here, being close to him.
And maybe...he'll have to accept that. That maybe the burden it is to be a beast like him...would be easier to have when someone like you were around.
"I don't feel...like myself," you muttered, holding your head in one hand as your gripped your tea in the other.
"I think you are just experiencing isolation," your coworker said before lifting the coffee to their lips, taking a careful sip.
"You think?" You mumbled, rubbing your itchy temple as you closed your eyes, giving up on trying to fight the white light of the cafe.
"Oh yeah, many astronauts experience that; you know, I did. On my first expedition, you see I–"
You tried to listen, really, you did, but your brain couldn't keep up with the influx of information they tried imparting on you.
As of late, you felt your energy had been dwindling. You just didn't feel motivated to do anything, you felt hollow and empty like a sad walnut shell. You kept forgetting things; for one instance, your coworker prevented you from slicing your own tongue by stopping your hand that you thought was a fork delivering meat into your mouth. It was a knife.
You wanted to try and "fix it" by trying to talk to one of your colleagues, but you received your answer when your coworker was rambling about their own first mission.
"That's great," you murmured before you stood up, slipping away from them as they looked dumbfounded by your sudden leave. You felt slightly guilty for leaving so soon, but you decided that, maybe your issues couldn't be bothered at the moment.
You walked across the sterile white walls that smelled like bleach and cabinets underneath a dishwasher sink. The light was too harsh as you shut your eyes again and pinched the hot spot on the bridge of your nose.
Your eyes wandered over to the window just to your right. The abyss was star-less, not a twinkle in sight, like the mouth of a cave.
The entire universe was filled to the brim with stars and planets, but this part of this empty space was like staring into an empty house at night. It was dreadful to be here and you regret it.
You thought it be nice and exciting to be here, on the stage of stars.
But it was defeaning.
Silencing.
Cold.
Staring into the abyss as it stared back at you; waiting for a moment you leave the iron walls of your spaceship.
You stopped in front of your door, your hand limping itself up to press the rhythmic code to your room. It slid open.
You remembered just flopping on top of the hard bed you grown used to now. Rubbing your eyes again as you tried to turn on a television to get your mind off things again.
But your eyes soon closed in on itself, submitting you to sleep.
You woke up again.
Your eyes glazed over to the wall clock.
3:35 am
Of course, it's always been like this.
You sat up, wrapping your blanket around you. Trying to remember what happened in your dream. But every time, the seconds of wake abandon you without memory.
You rummage through your drawers, trying to find—yes, your journal. You opened it, turning a dozen pages, passing through each page that were written with optimistic proses initially. Finding a blank slate, your hand smoothing over a slight wrinkle of the cream colored page as you held the ink pen in your hand.
Just anything to try and pry even a fraction of memory of your last dream. You didn't believe in those things, the thing being that dreams had "meaning", but as of late, if you were to read your latest pages again one would notice a trend.
You kept seeing strange things in your dreams.
You'll find yourself back at home, sitting on a chair at a candlelight dinner waiting for whom...?
Your eyes would see the suitor in front of you sit down and there, the suitor would have the head of marine being, or a creature you presume. Their head had many withering, thin strings...flurry out of their neck as if it were twirling ribbons from out of a dance performance. Despite its uneasy look, it was also pretty and lit with tiny lights that glowed admit the darkness.
You had found yourself enjoying the company of this strange being.
You stopped writing.
You stopped writing phrases when you realised you drew a picture instead.
Your eyes had been blinded by the glaring light in your retinas. You attempted to turn and twist, but your body stayed firmly in place in the leathery arms. Then, you felt yourself being put down into a small pool of shallow, lukewarm water.
The light fading away and for once allowing your eyes to open up.
Your eyes finding that you were hidden in darkness with multiple oculus holes plastered throughout the dome shaped structure. Sunlight filtered in yet never hit your face.
Sitting up, your clothes drenched in water and you felt a presence linger behind you as if expectant. And when you turned, you see him there, levitating above the ground. He would've blended into the darkness if not for his red eyes that sparkled like precious rubies.
Instinctively you scrambled from your place and far from him; your eyes quickly found a hole large enough for your size to pass through. Picking up your bare feet that slapped against the cool and polished floor to the hole. The outside misty and thickly gray as if a blanket shielded you; nothing could be seen beyond it.
But once your bare soles escape the smooth ground of the spotted dome, your feet didn't hit ground.
Your limbs flailed against the mist that turned red every slice you took out of it. You began to descend through the air and through the red mist you left behind. Escaping clouds you found yourself high in the air peircing through the sky. The wind cutting your healed wounds once more, opening them up as the salt rose from the waters below you and into your blood. The bioluminescent ocean harboring its jagged points against you.
You would've fell into the ocean if not for the slick tendril that shot you back inside the structure like a slingshot. He, shoving you back onto the shallow pool inside your cage.
You rose your face up to only gaze at him with fear once you made contact with his red eyes. If only you knew.
It's only been a few weeks. Or months? Or years. Possibly. It felt like days. You wouldn't know the differences even if you could calculated the amount of time you've spent here. You only knew that you've been here long enough to become aware of the fact that mission control had abandoned you. They probably declare you as dead or missing, gone to the mystery of space for what? Duty, they'll claim. And you had yet to make your peace with it.
Other than the existential dread you were facing, it was also boring up in the clouds. Sometimes when the mist cleared up, you would witness the sun's light shine into the holes of the dome architecture, other times you'll only see the many moons of the planet occupy each direction you look.
But, being the bachelor he was, he would try proving himself to you.
His gifts would often consist of pretty things; sometimes it was pretty jewels that illuminated every time your voice spoke into it, sometimes it was sparkly dust that showered the entire dome like a glittery snowstorm, sometimes it was a long stem of black grass pouring out glowing goo. You just kept them far away from you in a corner tucked away.
Though your actions encouraged the alien to bring you more and more items into your arms. But the items you kept, kept piling up, until the entire trypophobic dome was filled to the brim of these items that sometimes you'll see a stranger's tendrils try to steal the gifts for themselves when he wasn't around.
As you've come to survive inside the dome, he began to try and touch you. But you always recoiled away from him, never allowing him to touch your skin with his leathery tendrils. And try as he might, he continued every day, attempting to coax a reaction from you. Every single stroke or poke cautious and soft.
But no matter what, you refused them.
He would look at you offended each time. He didn't understand your opposition. You were a fragile and a clearly helpless mate, in need of a strong mate to protect and provide you. So he resorted to one solution.
On one particularly lonely night; as you reluctantly sleep against the curved walls. You dream.
You dream yourself at home, safe as if you never volunteered for your space mission. You sit in front of the television screen, watching your favorite show curled in a blanket with a warm beverage. The smell of home smelled exactly like childhood and nostalgia, the smell of warm and fuzziness.
You hear the front foor crack open and there revealed a handsome man who sat down besides you. He exuded a calm and casual demeanor with you like you both were friends who wanted to reconcile after years of distance. Just ignore his red eyes and tendrils that appeared out of nowhere.
He was very kind, listening to your every word, a great listener who didn't speak a peep nor vowel. Watching and hearing you rant about the things you loved and hated.
When night came to fall, he tucked you in and slept by your side; watching you intently when any nightmare occured. Catching you to reassure you that there were no monsters here and he was there for you.
When morning occured, he made you your favorite food and had you eat it in bed. Watching your sleepy yet famished expression as you dug in your fill of heartiness.
But all good illusions come to an end when you accidently bit your tongue.
You woke up with the taste of blood in your mouth as you discovered half of your body missing. There was no gore or blood, nothing suggested that you were cut crudely from a mad butcher, there was only void. Yet when you turned your gaze upwards and saw him, he was different this time, his leathery shell and tentacles no longer dark blue or black, but red. His old self molten and thrown to the side in the darkness if you squinted your eyes.
You wanted to scramble from away from him. Demand an answer. But you froze.
You found yourself stuck to the shallow basin as if you were a rat stuck to a glue trap. The more you struggled the more you found yourself imposed inside the deceivingly benign liquid. You began to sink inside the water sand pit agonizingly slow. And you stared at him with horror as he gazed. Yet somehow, you could feel that he didn't want this either.
He never did, but what other way could he had done to make you understand?
The last of your fingertips submerged into the clear water, and there was silence and darkness. The only things tangible were your thoughts. The thoughts slowly tearing itself apart and melting away like shreds of paper in water.
Five sunsets and three sunrises later.
He watched eagerly, his eight blue eyes slowly blinked as he saw a cocoon emerged out of the annular basin without being drenched as if it were waterproof. He floated over to the cocoon, and allowed one careful tendril to stroke it. Getting a sense of the metamorphosis that occured.
The cocoon began to slowly tear itself open like paper and slowly out emerged thorny appendages that curiously yet lazily explored it sensory surroundings. But then its head escaped its dark lair.
You blinked open your eyes like the first time you found yourself here, but this time your world felt so much more clearer. You felt weightless and airy as if no bones or flesh held you down, you could feel every wind whistle and absorb into your skin, you could smell everything from the oily pores to the thin air in the atmosphere, you could see the world in different spectrums of light and color simultaneously, you could feel the most subtle of textures with one padded end of your appendage.
And when you saw him, you didn't react with fear when he approached and offered his appendage to you like offering a hand. With the last remanants of your human memories, you recall his silent voice, yet this time, his softest now spoke the loudest to your ears with a tremble and gentle voice that you would never hear in a human:
You've been stuck on this planet you could not pronounce. Its residents mysterious and elusive as ever; their forms unconforming and strange. They reminded you of brittle stars or siphonophores who drifted into the air as if it were the ocean waves instead.
The air was thin and hard to breathe, you were forced to having to take deep breaths and careful steps amongst the terrain that was unbelievably moist and smooth as if was drenched from an ancient flood eons ago...
You could easily slip and die.
Suffocate from the sparkling blue mud that twinkled underneath your every step like a velvet carpet. You only found solace in some rocks that shielded you from the winds that sliced your skin, almost literally, when you see small cuts of blood daring to pool out of the small crevices.
That's how life here went for you.
You watched, waited, and hoped.
You watched those aliens float through the air like fish as if you were stuck at the bottom of the sea. Or perhaps they were birds instead. And as you stared up at the atmosphere where you could see the neighbor planet's magnificent colors and rings; you waited. For help to come to you, waiting for your fellow human comrades to come rescue your predicament.
But hope.
Hope was something you kept close to your chest like a deck of cards. It was the only thing keeping you awake at night and alive every day; it was the thing that convinced to keep eating those weird algae clumps found in those shallow tide pools and drink the crystal clear water that you hoped was safe. It was the thing that told you everything is okay, wait it out, this will be a story you will laugh off after a few years.
But it waned every day.
Day by day, you began to grow hopeless, almost succumbing to the whims of your dying sanity and the constant, repetitive colors of this planet that was permanently made of dark algae greens and neon oceanic blues. You felt like you were going blind when you stared at the cool colors, you felt like your vision was going red and pink, you were seeing things you shouldn't be seeing. And feelings things you shouldn't be–
You saw "him."
At least, you thought it was a "he."
He who you funnily called "Cthulhu" to save your sanity. (The nickname didn't last long)
Every day, when the half sun rose from the dark horizon like a broken toy being taken out of its play box to be toyed again by its celestial child, you see him hovering over the pond of muddy water like an angel. He who observed you with his eight eyes that spiraled into the center of his face. You were sure he was hiding more eyes.
But it went on like this for most days, he never moved, only followed your form when you moved across the treeless swamps for the edible algae next to the sea. And then, when you returned, you could count on him to just stand there.
It was normal, you didn't know how to feel about this strange routine, but you rationalized that as long as you both never bothered each other then everything is alright.
But that morning, when the sun emerged out of its horizon, you noticed he was a lot closer this time. In fact, he was standing right in front of your rocky entrance. You panicked, but you didn't scream, you didn't know what will happened if you did. All you could do was stay still like a snowshoe hare waiting for the lynx to scamper off, only running when necessary.
But to delicate surprise, you only saw clumps of algae neatly fitted into an "orb" of sorts? You shyly peaked out of your rocky hideout to match your eyes with his red eyes. A stare contest that lasted only for a few seconds before he began to slowly hover away with his limbs flying along with him like ribbons gently caressed by wind. You would hesitantly take the orb and indulge in a morning of...algae.
It went like this every morning for a while.
You didn't hate it, but you both weren't exactly friends yet. You couldn't trust someone like him. It would be dumb to just accept free offers like that left and right. But despite fear, you watched him watch you. Sometimes you would see him dance across and around the pond as if he was a bird of paradise performing a ritualistic dance to entice his female counterparts. Sometimes you would see him float up high in the sky, eyes moving across his body as if he was surveying for something, or someone. Sometimes you would find some pretty jewels laid out in the entrance of your rock home like offerings.
Then, the incident came that day.
The wind was particularly harsh that day and it cut against your skin so deeply you had large gashs across your skin like tiger stripes. You stumbled across the lands to try and hide away back to rocky solace. But you felt the air lighter and your vision brighter, flashes of life and memories passing by you like a sped up movie titled "You."
And maybe you found relief that you could die. Dying in a painful and agonizingly way was not the way to go, but dying nonetheless, allowing for a greater force to take you when you hesitated... It was almost like hope gave up on you yet weirdly decided to save you too.
But as you finally slipped and laid out across the glowing blue mud to accept the cruel winds, you felt your body caressed and gently curled up like you were a burrito wrap. The nodes and texture similar to that of soften leather and rubber. His limbs took you up and close to his form, shielding you from the winds as you were wrapped protectively. So much so that you felt yourself getting warmer and hotter in his grips when the cool air was refused entry.
Wrapped and succumbed to his needle appendages that dug into your flesh, like you could pop like a balloon in a box of needles. He was incredibly strong despite his "flimsy" looking tentacles as they curled and carried you around. You were lifted off of the ground, losing your worn out shoes in the process. The air up in skirs got thinner and harder to breathe in, your chest began to hurt a little like something was pressing against your chest. You almost felt your eyes go out, your head getting lighter but pressed against him.
He begun to "climb" through the air, his appendages acting like there were invisible climbing walls you couldn't see. It wasn't like the times he could just literally float.
As you both ascended the heights of the thin and light atmosphere your eyes began to close in on themselves and perhaps this was the end of it. The end to your hope and fears. And maybe, it was for the better. But when you feel the limbs of his needles gently poke into you, you felt like you wouldn't die, he wouldn't allow you to.
