oughh if you're open for messmer requests, maybe some first kiss/touch headcanons? im thinking he craves it desperately but is hesitant bc for one he's been touch starved since birth, and two Him Big compared to tarnished/reader, so he's concerned about accidentally hurting them
✭ pairing(s): messmer x gn reader
✧ a/n: hiiiiiiiii im sorry this one took so long!!! i admit, as much as i LOOOOVE MESSMER, its really hard to write soft stuff for elden ring in general... and by the time i started it was like a couple weeks before Wilds would be released and NOW im playing wilds... yada yada ANYWAYS! given the fact i got my little messmerito (messmer plushie!) i figured why not finish this between hunts... el oh el
✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora
🗒 cw: gn reader, tarnished reader, just hcs so its kinda got odd pacing, not proofread
✎ wc: 1.1k
ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ
With how scant love and affection is within Messmer’s life, he himself is quite afraid of it. He doesn’t grasp the concept as well as most, seeing as the most love he’s known has led to strife and heartache. In fact, the closest thing to love he knows is limerence. Until you.
At first, he’s scared. Terrified. So scared it makes him sick. He isn’t scared of you or the relationship, but the change. He’s spent most of his life making sure no Tarnished gets close, much less live within his presence. So why does he take such a shine to you? Why does he allow you to quell the ever-burning embers of his rage? Change has never treated him right, so why would it now?
The first month or so, he is incredibly distant. He treats you more of a guest than a lover. But he still shows that he cares, or that he’s at least trying. Better accommodations, your own bedroom, and whatever else you could ask for. He allows you privacy (of course), so much so that it seems more like he’s distanced himself from you, and asked the Fire Knights to ignore your existence.
Eventually, he warms up to the thought of touch, words, etc. Sometimes you’ll catch his eye lingering on your face (and lips specifically) for a moment too long, he’ll “accidentally” nudge your hand with his, only to pull it away all too quickly. He spends more time with you too, often-times following you around the keep like a shy puppy when he has nothing else to do. He finds it hard to speak, however, too flustered to squeeze any words out. But still, he’s trying! It’s better to let him take the lead and take it at his own pace, despite how hesitant he seems.
The very first time Messmer actually properly held your hand was after a particularly long conquest. He was tired, completely and utterly. He had yet to wash the blood from his hands, or his snakes, and simply wandered throughout the keep until he found you. Never before had he been so confident, and yet, almost subconsciously, he had cupped your hands within his. He was gentle, incredibly so, simply staring down at your hands splayed out across his fingers.
He had used this gesture as a way to calm himself down. Despite being, as he would describe it, a creature of war, it still tore at him. At what point would this crusade for a mother who hadn’t so much as gazed upon him in several thousand years end? When would he get respite? That wasn’t love, no, the Tarnished’s hands within his– so small and delicate compared to his, yet utterly perfect– was. From that moment on, he began to redefine ‘love’ for himself.
In his otherwise unaddled mind, he would’ve chastised himself for showing such weakness, even if his heart was completely overflowing for you. But, in the moment, all he finds himself doing is simply staring down at your hands within his, feeling the cold seep into his skin. You have never seen such a soft look on his face before, sorrowful and torn, perhaps even unsure. Is this truely what he was born to do? Kill, and kill, and kill, and burn, and plunder? There had never been such a time to ponder on this, or find the answer, until then.
From then on, he grows a little bolder. When you two walk around the keep – rare as it is – his hand finds yours. It starts with simply tapping the back of your hand with his, before linking pinkies with you. He’s too afraid to properly hold your hand, acutely aware of his size and perhaps even strength compared to yours. Despite his worries about that, he is so very gentle.
Kissing is a whole different subject. Intimacy in general, as seen, is a pretty big leap for him. He understands that there must be more past tender touches and kind words, and he wants, so desperately, to achieve that. But he is truly afraid. It took him a lot of strength to get to the point where he could hold you, so I imagine it would take a lot longer to simply kiss you.
Unlike how it was with holding you, he finds the courage to do it in a much more quiet, and comfortable environment. Sure, the Keep is a ‘home’ to him, but it is still a space where the two of you could still be seen. Messmer, unfortunately, is still afraid of that prospect. It feels almost heretical, to openly display his love beyond gifts and treasure.
So, after he had finally warmed up to the idea of you two sleeping in the same bed, he seems to grow a bit more fond of affection in general. It’s private, quiet, and safe. He permits himself to act much more leisurely, enjoying ‘lazy mornings’. Or, at least, the closest things to them. In the fleeting moments before reality sets in, he quite enjoys draping his arms over your body, sometimes pulling you in closer. It is a simple gesture, but one he’s quite fond of, nonetheless. To have the luxury of waking up to someone he dares to call beloved is rare. And he intends to enjoy every moment of it.
The first ever kiss he bestows upon you is during one of these mornings, a small, almost tentative, brush of lips to your forehead. Almost barely perceptible, like he decided to back out the minute his lips touched your skin. Just as you look towards him, Messmer is pulling back, a small, nervous smile painted on his lips. He looks hesitant, as if he is wondering if he can do it again. Not if you’d allow him (which, of course you would), but if he could find the courage to kiss you again. He doesn’t dwell on it much longer, leaning back in to press a fleeting kiss to your lips. Unsurprisingly, he is warm. So, very warm. His lips are chapped, but not necessarily unpleasant to kiss. As quick as the kiss is, it is something you could get used to.
And it becomes routine from there. A kiss in the morning and a kiss in the night, something awfully domestic. Sometimes it’s quick, sometimes his lips lingers, however it is never charged. When he lingers, it’s always a bit more emotional. Perhaps he’s had a particularly bad day, or he just… isn’t feeling well. Suddenly, something that seemed so far out of reach for him – love – had morphed into something far more… simple. Comfort. Perhaps it is the fact that this action has become so standard to him, or perhaps it is because of you, but these kisses help wash away any lingering insecurities. Maybe not the ones that have sunk their angry claws into his heart, but such simple affections are enough to allow himself to pick himself up, time and time again.
(more) etymologies on our zealots of pyromania and punishment
I actually covered Messmer, Andreas and Huw here but this is everyone in Messmer's army.
Messmer
From German messner, a custodian, a gravedigger, verger, and churchwarden (by oldest definition a housekeeper).
From German messer "knife", meaning "one who makes knives" or knifemaker.
From French mesmer, animal charm/magnetism.
*The first definition is most applicable though Messmer made a poor one by letting his men behead all those Marika statues (where did those heads go, by the way?), and the third will explain the sheer number of animals in Shadow Keep. I wonder if he made or designed those Fire Knight weapons himself, which will account for the second.
Andreas
Derived from the Greek anēr, with genitive andros, Andreas means “man” or “manly.” The moniker refers to the courageous traits of the patriarch in Ancient Greece, so Andreas is sometimes translated as "warrior.”
*Andreas is the name of several physicians in ancient Greece, and it is difficult to distinguish each from the other. The earliest Andreas wrote a treatise on rabies and was falsely accounted to have left his native country for having set fire to the library at Cnidos. He was also accused of plagiarism, and was called "the Aegisthius (or Adulterer) of Books".
Maybe Commander Andreas was the one who killed Hilde?
Huw
Of Welsh origin, derived from the name Hugh, which has Old French and Old German origins; understanding, heart, intellect, soul, bright mind, bright spirit; or from Hugo, derived from the old Germanic hugu, meaning 'sense, mind, thought', and huggen, meaning 'to think'.
From hew, to obey or behave according to (rules, principles, or expectations).
*Both define Huw's situation. Poor guy's stuck in a lose-lose situation; either he loses his lord and comrade or his father. He chose to be the filial son in the end, but we don't know the specifics of how far their rebellion got, if Huw had a tell that let Messmer figure it out (too late).
Edredd
From Eadred or Edred, an Anglo-Saxon name, from ēad "wealth, fortune; prosperous" and ræd "counsel".
*Mr. Prosperous Counselor is stationed in the Fort of Reprimand area so either his form of counselling is very violent, or he is the final attempt at getting these people to receive a lighter sentence.
Garrew
From Scottish name Garrow, descriptive nickname from the Gaelic epithet garbh 'rough, stout, of powerful build'.
From Cornish nickname garow 'rough'.
Kood
Estonian, borrowed from Middle English code and Old French code “system of law”.
From Latin cōdex, later form of caudex “the stock or stem of a tree, a board or tablet of wood smeared over with wax, on which the ancients originally wrote; hence, a book, a writing.”.
*Also means a particular lect/variety of language, a cryptographic system using a codebook, and unwritten rules.
Insert a joke on Andreas the religion and Huw the principle/rule vs Kood the law/unwritten rule, anyone?
Salza
Salza, Austrian noble surname, taken from saltz. Saltz is associated with German Salz "salt" and the Latin salarium (root of the word salary), which referred to the payment made to Roman soldiers to buy salt. This could suggest that members of the Salza noble family could have been part of an elite military organization at one point.
Salza is the name of three towns (one French, two Italian) and three river tributaries: the Salza (Saale), in Saxony-Anhalt, Germany; the Salza (Unstrut), in Thuringia, Germany (Saale -> Unstrut -> Elbe -> North Sea); and the Salza (Enns), in Austria.
*Maybe Salza is descended from rich salt merchants who became warriors then nobility, or something. But his name is more likely pertaining to "tributary of a river" due to his position guarding the pathway to Rauh.
Wego
From Spanish huego, obsolete and rare form of fuego "fire", from Late Latin focus “fire”, which came from Latin focus “hearth”.
From Tagalog huego, obsolete form of huwego, borrowed from Spanish juego, from Latin jocus, iocus. Synonym of sugal "gambling". Can mean gambling; a game/play; a set or series of things; or looseness or movement of a mechanical attachment within its own clearance (such as in a steering wheel).
Hilde
Derived from the name Hild formed from Old Norse hildr, meaning "battle". Inspired by a name borne by the legendary Valkyrie Hildr, a female warrior who had the power to revive the dead on the battlefield so that each day, they can continue fighting for what they believed in.
Queelign
Possibly from Irish name Quinlan meaning “fair form,” “handsome image,” or “strong".
Quellen in Dutch means "to torment, to hurt, to torture" and in Middle English "to kill or slay; to inflict death upon someone", "to quell or suppress; to end afflictions or threats", "to verbally insult or demean", "to ruin, to lay waste to".
*Curiously, both Danish lign and Norweigian ligne mean "to look like, resemble, be similar to", "to take after", "to compare".
Gaius
Roman given name, of uncertain meaning. Possibly derived from Latin gaudere "to rejoice".
Gaius was generally the second-most common personal name, following only Lucius, throughout Roman history. Although many prominent families did not use it at all, it was so widely distributed amongst all social classes that Gaius became a generic name for any man, and Gaia for any woman.
A familiar Roman wedding ceremony included the words, spoken by the bride, ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia ("as you are Gaius, I am Gaia"), to which the bridegroom replied, ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.
*Gaius emphasizes his personhood by having the name of a normal ordinary man. And that mention of Gaea and Gaius in Gaius' helm...
Rellana
Re- is a Latin loanword prefix used with the meaning “again” or “again and again” to indicate repetition, or with the meaning “back” or “backward” to indicate withdrawal or backward motion.
Possibly derived from Elana or Elena, from the French name Alienor, which could either be a form of Helen, from the Greek helene "light" or selene "moon".
From Lana, taken from English Alana or Alan, meaning "little rock" or "handsome". Lana in in Hawaiian means "calm/still waters" or "afloat".
*Everything about Rellana's name can describe her not only her unique sorcery but also her arena.
Moonrithyll
Based on this Reddit post, Moonrithyll's name is either a meme or a pun, possibly having the meaning of "moon-moon", "moon squared", "moon-night" or "moon-time of moon".
Moongrum got off very lightly with grum meaning "surly, sour, glum, morose".
I FINALLY wrote Messmer shit again! Yippee! Thank you all for waiting so patiently. I also have over 500 reblogs which is crazy! I'm so happy.
Anywho, here you go. Enjoy your dinner.
Link to part one here!
Link to my Masterlist here!
You’ve been having a fantastic time in the Shadow Keep.
Putting aside the demigod who you may or may not have been annoying for the past few weeks, there’s so much history to delve through. His Storeroom, which you had begged him to let you go into, held a great many mysteries about the Shamans and the Hornsent. The books you’ve been pouring over alongside shambling shades were fascinating; so much so that you often brought them back to your quarters to read until you fell asleep in your very comfy bed.
Messmer, as promised, had your quarters cleaned. The dust was gone practically overnight and you had fresh clothes, sheets, and as much food as you could ever want. Perhaps this was Messmer’s way of thanking you for sparing him?
Speaking of that, he hardly had time for you. When he wasn’t shut away in his quarters, he was out training with his men. You had often watched him work, muscles rippling and his soldiers watching with as rapt attention as you did. He truly was a fearsome warrior.
You got really lucky.
There was one occasion when he came and visited you not long after you were settled in your new home. He had knocked on your door long after the moon had risen into the starry sky, and you welcomed him in. He looked around the room, inspecting it with a scrutinizing gaze. But his anger quickly dissipated once you let him know just how much you loved your time here. You spared no detail, exclaiming about the lovely clothes you were given and how comfortable your bed was.
He looked so pleased.
As you run through your memories of the last few weeks, a discarded book about Hornsent religious practices on your lap, a loud knock sounds at your door. You get up, carefully placing the book on your side table, and make your way over to the door and open it. It was Salza, a longtime friend and confidant of Messmer’s. He was the most agreeable of his high-ranking men in your eyes, as he had no problem walking you through the Storeroom and loading your arms full of books as he regaled stories of old battles.
“My Lady,” he bows respectfully.
You sigh. “Salza, how many times have I reminded you to just call me by my name?”
“And how many times have I ignored you?”
“You make a fair point.” You gesture into your room, inviting him in.
He shakes his head. “As much as I would like to continue my stories of my long-lost days of grandeur, Lord Messmer requires you today.”
“Requires me? What am I, a concubine?” You scoff.
Salza opens his mouth to say something, then quickly shuts it, shaking his head. “Would you accompany me? Lord Messmer does not like to be kept waiting.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”
As you begin to take a step forward, Salza’s arm shoots out and stops you. You shoot him a puzzled look.
“Not like that. Wear something nicer.”
You look down at your clothes, a simple tunic, pants, and boots. Not very fitting for a lady, you say to yourself mockingly.
“Fine, fine. Give me a few minutes.”
“I’ve brought servants with me to help you, my Lady.” A few shades linger behind him in the dim light of a chandelier.
You quickly wave them in and shut the door. They all wander over to your wardrobe and pull out a few dresses that are, of course, all differing shades of red. You pick the one closest to the fiery red of Messmer’s hair, and the servants nod at your choice approvingly. They quickly get to work ridding you of your garments and lacing up your dress. A nice pair of sandals is placed at your feet and you quickly slip them on.
You move to sit at your vanity, which had to be replaced with one that was more your size. It’s made of a beautiful dark red wood, carefully carved with intricate linings of ivory and ebony. The servants flutter about you, two combing your long hair and taming it, and another picking out earrings and a lovely choker with two silver serpents. A light dusting of blush on your cheeks and some crimson is laid carefully on your lips. Looking into the mirror, you appreciate how beautiful you look. Sometimes, you hardly recognize the battle-hardened warrior you were before coming here.
The servants do one final pass over you and decide you look perfect enough after a few sprays of floral perfume that makes you cough and sneeze.
Finally returning to your door and opening it, Salza looks you up and down.
You hold up a hand. “Don’t say it. Just lead.”
He begins to walk and you follow him closely, your dress gently swishing as you move.
“I was merely going to ask you if you think My Lady fits you now.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, I guess it does.” You say wistfully.
Soon, you arrive at the large door to Messmer’s chambers. The last time you stood in front of these heavy doors, you were trying to kill him. The irony is not lost on you.
The guards stationed in front of the door open them wordlessly for you, the metal screeching against the rough stone floors in protest. Salza stands at your side, and as the doors open, you see the chamber is fully lit up. And very occupied.
All of Messmer’s top men are gathered around his large throne, with the man himself perched impatiently on his seat. He flexes and relaxes his fingers as if he’s summoning his spear.
Salza leads the way inside and you follow, hot on his heels as your sandals scrape against the floor. He takes his place at Messmer’s side and positions you next to him, only a man away from his Lord. You don’t notice so much as feel Messmer’s eyes watch your every movement. As you take your place, Messmer gives you a look of approval, a soft gaze that sends your mind reeling.
“My Lord, I believe everyone is here. Shall we begin?” Queelign says.
Fucking simp.
Messmer nods and raises his hand. The doors open again, and a man with dark robes and a hood over his head is escorted inside. He’s moved to the middle of the room when the hood is taken off his face.
You almost pass out on the spot.
It’s Sir Ansbach, a fellow Tarnished serving Miquella the Kind, like Lady Leda. His mask has been taken off and is dropped at his side. He can’t move with two guards at his back and his hands bound.
“Speak thy name, trespasser.” Fire Knight Kood rumbles out.
“I am Sir Ansbach, loyal follower of Lord Mohg, and the last of the Pureblood Knights.” His voice does not waver despite the circumstances.
“A follower of Mohg? Here?” Messmer speaks, and you notice his men straighten even more at the sound of his voice.
“Yes, Lord Messmer. I have nothing to hide, nor have I any reason to disguise my allegiances.”
When Messmer doesn’t speak again, Queelign does so for him.
“Have thee any relation to Miquella the Kind?” God, his voice is annoying.
“Once, perhaps, when my heart was stolen by him as I tried to save my dear Lord. No longer, however, as his charm has broken.”
“How many of Miquella’s followers are in the Realm of Shadow?” Kood inches closer to Ansbach.
“Five that I know of, my Lord. I do not know their whereabouts or if they have been freed from the charm as well. I came here for knowledge, nothing more.”
“Speak their names.” Messmer summons his spear.
“Lady Leda, Moore, Freya, Hornsent, and Dryleaf Dane.”
You knew all of these names, except one. Dane remained a mystery to you.
“Is it the truth that spills from thy lips, or venom, Sir Ansbach? I do not know you.” Messmer’s voice sends a chill down your spine.
“Perhaps not, my Lord, but she does.” He gestures to you.
The room goes silent except for the rapid beating of your own heart. If Messmer considers you a traitor, you don’t have your weapon. You don’t even have your flask. You are sure to lose horribly.
“Speak.” Messmer narrows his eye at you.
You take a deep breath before beginning. “It’s true, Lord Messmer. I know Sir Ansbach, and every word he says is true. I know of these followers of Miquella, except for Dryleaf Dane. He remains unknown to me. But I trust Sir Ansbach. I would ask that you do the same.”
Queelign, unfortunately, butts in before anyone else can speak. “My Lord, how can we be so sure that she is not a follower of Miquella herself? How can we be sure this is not some elaborate plot to infiltrate the Shadow Keep?”
Messmer tenses at his words. You narrow your eyes at Queelign.
“Forgive my harsh words, my Lord, but I don’t give a shit about Miquella. I killed his sister and harbor her Great Rune, for Marika’s sake. I never came here to enact whatever master plan he has; I came here for the adventure. Might I remind you of our first meeting, my Lord?”
“My Lord, she how do we know–”
“Enough. She has spoken.”
You could kiss Messmer right now.
Queelign, fuming, but not wanting to do anything to disobey his Lord, sulks back to his spot. With a raise of Messmer’s hand, the guards behind Sir Ansbach cut his bindings.
“Thank you, Lord Messmer.” Sir Ansbach bows deeply, as he was more than likely not expecting to get out of this situation alive.
“Do not thank me. If not for my advisor, thy fate would have been decided in this room.” Messmer looks over at you, something you can’t quite place in his eyes.
You mouth a silent thank you to him, and his lip twitches into an almost smile. Cute.
“A pleasure to see you again, Lady Tarnished. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Oh, it was nothing. I do this every day.” You joke with a dismissive wave of your hand.
“What does thee know of Miquella’s plan?” Messmer sets the conversation back on track.
“Very little as of now. I came here with the intent on pursuing knowledge so I may know what to do next.” Sir Ansbach replies.
“My Storeroom is open to thee. Pursue to thy heart’s content, but thou wilt harbor no ill will towards my men. Should thee disobey my warning, there will be no mercy.”
“Of course, Lord Messmer. Should I find anything, I will tell you immediately.”
“Salza,” Messmer begins. “Show him to the Storehouse.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
With an audible creak of his bones, he leads Sir Ansbach out of the great chamber. The rest of Messmer’s men stand still awaiting his orders.
“Return to thy posts and sharpen thy blades. A war may be approaching.” His words echo through the room, sending a chill down your spine.
Everyone begins to leave and you go to join them, but Messmer gently grabs your wrist.
“I would have thee stay.”
“Okay. I mean, yes, my Lord.” You curtsy to him.
Once the rest of the guards leave and the large metal doors are shut, Messmer releases your wrist and begins to walk behind his throne. You follow, trying to catch up with him with your much smaller legs, and you notice another large door at the very back of the room. It’s adjacent to the large statue of Marika and partially hidden by deep crimson curtains.
“Come.” He holds the door open for you and you tentatively make your way inside.
With reddening cheeks, you realize that this is his personal chamber. A large bed with red blankets and various furs sits imposingly in the corner, and a few desks and tables litter the room. It is luxurious, but not extravagantly so. You wonder if perhaps he does want you as a concubine.
He clears his throat and you realize he’s waiting for you at a large table covered by a map. As you hurry over, you realize it shows the layout of the Land of Shadow.
“Why have you brought me here, my Lord?”
Something about your flustered face must be funny because he lets out a small chuckle. “I seek your advice.”
“Oh, okay! Because when Salza came to my door and told me I needed to look nice I thought you’d be taking me as a concubine or something like that.” Words rush out of you faster than reason can reign them in, and you find yourself the bringer of an uncomfortable silence.
Messmer’s cheeks flush and his one eye looks around rapidly as long as it doesn’t linger on your form. He places his hands on the table in front of him, and, after some time, he looks down at you with a look.
“Not that I wouldn’t be honored!” You interject quickly. “I just, uh, would like to get to know you better before we did anything like that. But you’re very handsome and… I think I’m going to stop talking.”
It was probably a good thing you did. Messmer looks ready to keel over where he stands from your words. His face is a deeper red than his hair and he opens and closes his mouth rapidly in search of words that never seem to come to him.
Eventually, he gets his mind straight enough to quietly utter a few words. “Thou wouldst consider me handsome?”
“Of course.” You say smiling.
“I am naught but a horrid war-beast.”
“Would you please just take a compliment?!” You all but screech.
“Wouldst thou stop rambling like a child?” He counters.
“You’re impossible. I can’t believe I picked this dress for you!”
Once again, silence encompasses the room. You nervously pick at your cuticles to give yourself something to do.
“Thou lookest radiant. Red becomes you.” He mutters.
“Oh. Thank you.”
He reaches to take off his helmet, sighing as the weight of it rests on the table beside him. His fair, though a bit messy, frames his face beautifully. You just wish you could tell him that without sending him into a spiral.
“I brought thee here for militaristic purposes, nothing more, I assure thee.”
“Oh. That’s boring.”
“And thou wouldst have me take thee as a concubine instead?”
Your face flushes for the millionth time today. “No! I mean… maybe? Can we– can we just get back on track? Please?”
“Wouldst thou take a compliment?” He mocks you.
“I should’ve let you tear your eye out.”
He laughs and it makes you shrink even further into yourself. You do have to admit that he is so handsome when he smiles.
“Can I ask you something?”
Your sudden serious tone has his smile falling off his face faster than it arrived. He nods.
“Why did you trust me so much back there? Your men might not like the fact that you’re listening to a Tarnished.”
His gaze hardens. “Thou hast seen many battles rather recently. My men and I have lingered, burning away hastily-formed groups of remaining Hornsent, but we have lingered nonetheless.”
“Is that all?” You push.
He pauses before replying. “I owe thee mine own life. Engaging thy whims is a small price to pay.”
Your heart swells at his words and you place your hand gently over his. His gaze lingers on your small hand and curiosity gets the better of him. He holds your hand and inspects it, noticing a few callouses from battles fought, but overall, your skin is smooth. He feels unworthy of your touch and quickly drops your hand.
Perhaps privy to his internal battle, you move forward and gently wrap your arms around him, his serpents nuzzling into you. He stands so still, almost as if he can’t believe this is real. How long it’s been since he was given a loving touch.
“You’re sweet.” You mutter those words into his armor that’s been splattered with blood more often than it’s been polished.
He takes comfort in the knowledge that you, his strange Tarnished, does not care.
Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 14
MASTERLIST
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Summary: Messmer and the Tarnished use the time to think over what just happened. The Tarnished catches Messmer up on everything she's discovered.
A/N: This chapter is labelled a spicy chapter 🌶️
Warnings for this chapter: making out, slight dry humping, mentions of some sexual content
A03 link
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Chapter 14: Consolation
There are many things you've come to enjoy about Messmer's chambers: from the plush rugs and silk red and gold trim to the warmth that seems to encapsulate the entire room, it feels to be the warmest part of the Keep. The darkness he lives in has swallowed you entirely, not that you can complain. You feel as if you want to be swallowed by it, taken into its arms and tended to. The warmth of his room feels similar to the bathhouse, and you cannot complain when you have just died.
It is something you crave first when you come back to the living; heat. You can only describe coming back from the dead as waking from being drowned; your lungs burn, skin feels frozen and stiff. The only comfort you can hold is the cloak Messmer offered to you without a second thought. It engulfed you when he placed it around your shoulders, his scent was a familiar smell you felt reassurance from.
You've not once taken your eyes off the flames in the hearth. The warmth that consumes you brings the heat back to your once-cold body. Your limbs begin to feel less rigid by the minute. Despite it all, you have to remind yourself you're still alive, your heart beats once again, and your blood flows throughout your entire body.
You still feel its presence, the press of a blade against your skin, the blood and how it flowed out from your wound, how painful each death grows and seems to draw you further and further away from feeling truly alive.
Dying takes a toll on you, over and over again, but it is rather an acceptance you've grown to live with. You shudder, your hand snaking its way to find comfort in stroking the healed skin of your throat, aware of his eye watching you from the corner of the shadows.
Messmer sits idly, not as close as you wish, but you feel his presence, sulking in the shadows as he does best, occasionally disassociating to stare off into the hearth or keeping his eye on you. He has been silent since you came back, where he brought you to his room "for safety". There is still a threat in the air, you can feel it throughout the entire Keep; how there is a feeling that has grown hostile. Regardless of everything the two of you went through, you want to explain things to him so badly, but you don't even know where to begin.
You know when Messmer wishes to speak when you can see from the corner of your eye him wringing his hands together, collecting the right words and courage to speak.
"Thou must be tired." It is not a question, but rather an observation that comes from the redhead, his voice does not hide how tired he sounds himself. You look away momentarily from the fireplace, catching a glimpse of him, shuffling closer to sit beside you on the floor.
It is not too difficult to not spot him, from his red hair that looks to be flames itself, how vibrant it looks. He is fire-made flesh, and you admit to yourself he looks ethereal. Now that he's closer to you, you feel his mere size, how he almost engulfs you sitting side by side, but it is a comfort you've grown yearned for.
"I think I'm fine," you mutter, though you're not sure if you're saying it to him or yourself. You hope your words can ease the silence of the room, but it still feels strange how all of this is happening. You clench and unclench your fingers, the cold takes forever to thaw from them no matter how close to heat you are. "This is all part of the cycle."
"T shouldn't has't to beest," Messmer's voice is quieter, it draws like a hiss from his lips. They form into a hard line, face scrunched. You glance over at him, eyebrows etched in confusion. He continues, "thee shouldn't has't to endureth yond."
"You'd wish I was dead?" You ask, a jest, but it doesn't lighten the mood. The look Messmer gives you could be a mixture of hurt and a scowl. You can tell he's not taking any of this well. His serpents have coiled into him, enjoying the warmth of the room, making his presence smaller, more gaunt. His skin appears to look brighter in contrast to the light cast from the fires, but you can still look beyond it to see just how done he looks. Without the red of his infamous war cloak, he looks certainly more like royalty than a soldier.
"Nay," he seems genuinely shocked you would ask that, "thee doth not knoweth what I did see."
You feel something lurch within your chest, witnessing his vulnerability. You know he is trying to hide this with a shield but cracks are forming. "Messmer-"
"Thee... died." His voice is a mere whisper, and you notice that on his hands, even in the soft darkness of the room, there is still a tinge of red that stains his skin and his fingernails. It seems this has all taken a toll on him, and he is silently absorbing it all alone.
You can remember it all, through your life slipping through his hands, the way he cradled you to his chest, the way he gave you solace in your dying breaths. The vulnerability you both shared was one you still feel, how his ghostly touches are still felt on your skin, the feel of them stroking your hair out of your face.
You try to console him, "I live now." You try to give him a small smile, but it feels foreign to you to be comforting someone over your death. Tarnished are never mourned, so why does it feel so odd to be given this chance to be grieved finally?
"Thee liveth anon, but what if the next is the lasteth? What then?" Messmer asks, making you think: when could it all be taken away? Could your final moments happen the next time?
It would be poignant if Marika had finally been done with you, tearing her guidance from your body with no final warning. It did make you realise how reckless you'd been. Or perhaps, death hadn't been as frightening as when you knew you would come back? You realised how right Messmer was, how careless you had been this entire time, treating dying to play a roulette game.
He continues, "I feared thee wouldst never awaken. Yond mine own mother's direction hadst died 'alongside thee."
"I'm sorry-- I didn't know-"
"Yond is correct," he raises his voice in a hiss, "thee didn't knoweth. Thy recklessness couldst beest thy downfall, what then shalt those doth if thee art not here?" It's when his golden eye softens, he retreats slightly when he spots how his raised voice has made you noticeably flinch.
He sighs tiredly, averting his gaze. "Forgive me. I has't hath said too much."
"Messmer, wait-" You don't think he'll listen to you, so you do one thing you can think of. Leaning with enough force, you manage to grab his hand before he's too far away. The warmth of his skin is expected, yet it always surprises you just how hot his blood runs with the serpent within. You think he is even warmer than the heat of the flames.
The redhead looks down on you with genuine surprise, his eye watching you warily. "Please, stay."
Messmer's breath catches in his throat, but he relents, sitting back down, a bit closer to you now.
You speak up finally. "I... you are right. I was reckless, childish even. I wasn't thinking." You glance at him quickly, catching his gaze already looking at you. "I had... there was still so much I had to do, to apologise to you, and gods, they kept me up there, locked in my own mind, torturing me so I could not-"
You freeze, realising you had to elaborate on the chosen words you used. Messmer is intrigued. "Locked hence thee sayeth? By what?"
Swallowing the bile in your throat, you hesitate. You cannot stop thinking about the false Godwyn, fighting him, to seeing a young Messmer. Even now, you can see such similarities: the boyish youth frozen in time on his face. He is forever a man changed by all and he can only continue and not look back. "I do not know where to even begin."
"The hornsent kneweth of mine own whereabouts," Messmer answers, "t'is not the first those has't cometh for me."
It is when Sir Ansbach's words draw you to reality: to remember the crucial part of it all. Miquella is using it for a greater purpose, even better than his mother's.
"Miquella." Your words loom a great deal of dread through Messmer, but he is silent, allowing you the moment to speak. "He is ascending to godhood, to become a far greater God than your mother. Mohg-- he's using his corpse for something, a vessel of some sort."
You continue, "There is more. Needle Knight Leda said that there was a purpose in me finding you, to hunt you." You wrack your fingers together nervously. "Your flame, they need your flame for-"
"The sealing tree," Messmer answers for you. You know what he talks of, in the Ancient Ruins of Rauh, the thick, blackened twisted vines that block entrance to the tower; that no normal flame could burn down. "Those needeth mine own kindling to enter."
He's oddly calm beside you, and you realise he must've accepted his demise a very long time ago. It makes you wonder how many have come to have their vengeance, how many times his life has been on the line and how often he has thought what comes after his death. Would he be so willing to risk his life and flame? What if the only way to open it was for him to be killed?
Messmer senses the way you've tensed up, the way you have disassociated from your thoughts. He nudges you lightly to bring you back, and you know he's looking at you and trying to find the best possible thing to say. There is an acceptance that is heavy in his words when he speaks to you.
"If 't be true t'is mine own flame thee needeth, thee shalt has't t. But I only asketh for thy blade to endeth mine own life."
You turn to him in bafflement, realising just what he had said. "No way am I going to kill you. Just because your kindling is needed, doesn't mean I need it. Leda can search all she can, but it will not stop me from harming you."
Messmer laughs wryly, "Wherefore wouldst thee wisheth to keepeth me safe? A wretched soul did bind to this form, cursed." He stares down at his clawed hands. "Mine own life hast known nay loveth, nay warmth, only the serpent inside twists and wishes wishes for freedom."
You tell yourself if you confess now, it may ruin everything between you two. That professing all would take back everything you tried to mend. You can't just not say it though, it calls to you, and you wish for him to know just how much he is cared for.
Placing a hand over his, you draw his attention by gently directing his face to look over at you. "Your men look out to you, Messmer. They would start a war in your name. Miquella is frightened of the threat you stand as. He would be a fool if he did something so soon."
"And thee? What is thy purpose as a Tarnished? If 't be true not our deal, what doth thee standeth for?"
"I stand with you because I want to. Because... I care for you and your safety. If they could send hornsent assassins, what more could come? You were alone and I-" You catch your breath in your throat, "I was scared to lose you."
Messmer seems to let his guard down, his face is not as scowled or scrunched up as it normally looks, rather, it has softened upon hearing your words. "I feared for thee, the moment I did hold thee in mine own arms." He gasps audibly, lost in the moment. "Forgive me, this all doth feel so much."
"It is alright," you murmur and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, looking over the flames. You feel your heart racing, excitement and fear tears at you and your mind races. You cannot stop thinking about his touches and how you wish for more. Would that be too much to crave?
It's only now do you realise how handsome he looks in this light and those feelings are bubbling to the surface. His face seems so close yet not close enough, his strong straight nose makes him look more regal and angelic that you find it too hard in instinct to brush part of his red hair back, catching him off guard.
His own eye is boring into you, mixed emotions you could not ever know what he was expressing, and almost on instinct, your eyes move from his eye downwards, glancing so shamelessly down at his lips. Messmer's throat bobs nervously, noticing your glances but keeps his eye trained on you. You feel like a squeamish girl, giggling over crushes and blushing at comely princes and knights. Maybe it is courage or the heat of the room that is making your body feel flush, with the need to just be closer to him.
In the heat of the moment, you slowly begin to lean closer.
Messmer, rigid in his spot, looks hesitant too as you lean slowly up to his face, before he corrects himself quickly, "Swear to me thee shall not risketh thy life again?"
Your nose awkwardly bumps against his chin from backing out from doing something foolish, pulling back and averting your gaze from him. How you thought he would like you like that would jeopardise the entire friendship you had built with him, trying to knock those walls down of his only for your fears to spill over.
You nod shyly, noticing the familiar warmth that is flushed to his cheeks as well.
"I swear it."
It's a different night when he finds you again, with a head in the book in the dead of night; consumed in the darkness of the storehouse.
"Art the books of interest for thee did miss dinner?"
He notices that in the darkness of the large room, you're simply dressed in a nightgown, a silk red shift covering you from the chill. He averts his gaze when he notices he's staring too long at your bare collarbones on display, the way your skin looks so soft; the rise and fall of your chest as his eye drifts to the curvature of your breasts-
"I didn't know you were waiting for me. Rather, you'd prefer to enjoy your meal alone." You speak, your voice soft as your eyes drift from the pages to look up at him. He has now found a seat beside you on the floor, resting his back on the bookshelf, careful not to shuffle the books as he leans over to look at what you're reading, pulling away when he realises he can see very clearly down your nightgown.
You know you've been avoiding him to allow for you to not make a fool of yourself, only further pushing him away from you. You realise that you've stepped over the ledge, and surprisingly, it is Messmer who is showing he has not pushed you away.
"Is't too much to sayeth yond I did miss thee?" He asks, making you realise just how close he is this time to you, you can smell something citric on him that you cannot place, "T doesn't frighteneth thee??"
"No." You lean into him, and he does not pull away this time. You realise up close that he's just as nervous as you feel, his skin is flush, and his cheeks too. You look to his shaking hands, before noticing he wishes to do something. You catch his eye once more, silent yet begging internally. It's then that you see he too looks down your face, towards your lips before looking up to your eyes again.
"Thee shall engulf me whole one day," Messmer confesses softly, saying your name. "Though, t'is not something I wisheth to fleeth from."
"I do not wish to be away from you." You confess, watching his throat bob nervously.
From the candle that shines dimly in the darkness, the two of you finally feel whole.
You don't know who kisses who first, for his mouth is quick to connect against yours, pulling away quickly upon realisation. He doesn't pull away fully, only enough to ask with his gaze alone if this is alright, if he has made a mistake. You do not pull away, this time pulling him back as he lurches forward, clumsily holding you by the shoulders as you capture his lips to yours.
His lips are chapped, but warm, allowing you to kiss back and take charge. You realise he is hesitant, his hands are clumsy and are unsure where to hold you. You show him where, his golden eye eager to learn as you place his large hands along your waist, allowing him to pull you closer to him.
He readjusts you a few times due to his height, finally settling with him almost leaning over you, moaning heartily against your lips when you nibble on his lower lip.
"Thee shall beest the death of me." He mutters against your plush lips, his breath hot as you consume his lips before he can continue, feeling the way his limbs shake with either nerves or excitement. It makes your heart swell to know you're maybe his first, or that he's so flustered that he cannot keep his hands off you.
It is Messmer who gains the courage to pull you over him, your thighs caging him as you straddle his waist, not taking a break from kissing him. His scent envelops you, his clawed hands finding purchase on your hips, and you're aware that you're sitting directly above his groin from the way you shift and he lets a long groan out.
You pull back suddenly, thinking you've hurt him when you notice how red his cheeks are. His eye is blown wide, dilated and taking you in. Your nightgown has been tugged upwards, giving him a view of your thighs, and your sleeve has fallen off your shoulder so he can see more of your skin.
"Thou art fine art," he marvels, tugging you back for a kiss, soft moans leave your lips from his compliment. "A goddess hast did bless mine own eye."
You now blush at his words, fidgeting in his lap, feeling the warmth spread through your chest downwards, to grow hotter between your legs. "Messmer-" You whine, your body twitching and jolting upright, now feeling something warm and large below you.
Messmer groans against the clothes' friction, whispering against your heated skin as he moves you slowly on him, feeling the way the tent rubs deliciously against you. "Starlight, thee feeleth most wondrous." He groans, and you move in tandem with him, the friction has built that it feels too good between your legs.
The two of you continue to make out like horny teenagers, groping, teasing, gyrating against one another until your legs are slick with need. "I need you." You whine against his lips and Messmer makes a noise in the back of his throat in reaction, jolting his hips upright to meet yours with need.
"Thee has't me, thee has't me." He repeats like a chant, suddenly pulling back to look into your eyes to see if he has your permission, the consent to continue this further. There is a hesitancy to all that you notice in him, but you know he wishes to please you. "Prithee, alloweth me showeth thee what kindness I can giveth."
-
A/N: This was anticipated and I don't know what was keeping me from writing this! I hope it's still something readers are still wanting to read. I can promise excitedly that the next chapter will be the long-awaited smut!
A bunch of headcanons I cooked up, fresh from the oven:
Due to an accident related to his mother when he was little, Messmer almost lost his eyes, the right one was thankfully restored by doctors soon after. He has poor eyesight now and is prescribed to either wear glasses or contact lenses (or, well, singular), but he hates both options: the glasses are out of the question, the guy thinks he looks dorky in them; and a contact lens “hurts him”, he wears it sometimes though, because his mother gifts it to him.
Has snake pets he unironically calls his best friends. If he can, Messmer takes them with him: one likes to be out and about, while the other is usually chilling under his clothes. When people point out that it’s weird, Messmer laughs it off by saying he’s basically blind and they’re his special assistance guide-snakes.
Being the eldest, he can be very stern and a killjoy, but he only does so to gain his mom’s favor. Unfortunately to him, she’s much more strict and less warm to him than to her other children. Messmer has depressive episodes due to his mother’s coldness.
He’s a sporty guy and loves playing basketball, his height is one of the many reasons why he’s outstandingly good at it. Messmer is a captain of the team “Fire Knights”, and they’re flooring their main opponent team “The Hornsents” every match.
He’s kind of an edgy metalhead, but he frequently listens to classical music as well, it helps him sleep.
An avid gamer, especially a fan of the older hits like Warcraft, Starcraft, Heroes of Might and Magic, Doom, etc. His infatuation with games passed on to some of his younger siblings.
He also plays electric guitar quite well and has an amateur band with some of his friends and siblings. They can’t decide on the name though. The candidates were: “Burning Crusade” (yes, he did took it from WoW, was genuinely shocked when told it’s illegal), “Abyssal Serpent” (he hated it personally), “Children of the Erdtree” (too childish…), “Genocidal Purge” (too gory…), etc. Melina, who plays bass, said all these names are super lame, while Cood yes-man's through all of them.
Messmer used to hide his music from you, because he wasn’t certain if you’d like it. He was scared that you’d think it’s cringy and his heart just wouldn’t take it. But when you finally heard him play and loved it, he was happy beyond believe. Now Messmer likes to write cute little melodies for your enjoyment.
He doesn’t sing, too embarrassed. Only after a lot, A LOT of pleading he finally agreed to sing for you. But you, and you alone! Don’t tell anyone! Ever!!! His voice sounds soft, because he keeps it down, but it’s pleasant and melodic, going well with the guitar. You owe him now though.
Here’s a list of general headcanons for Messmer the Impaler with a romantic flare. Some of those are kinda obvious, but I still wanted to write them down. The reader is vague and not necessarily tarnished. Enjoy~
Despite being steadfast and unyielding in his actions and appearances, inside all that composure Messmer is full of uncertainties, he tends to overthink everything and convince himself of the worst possible explanation for things. The man needs a great deal of reassurances to open his mind towards anything positive. For example, he can easily believe that you simply have something to gain from his affections, but it would take a lot of persuasion to make him trust in sincerity of your feelings.
It’s not that hard to start a fling with the Impaler. He doesn’t get a lot of action since literally everybody’s terrified of him either out of respect or hate. You’ve come this far and you’re not too afraid, so why not? You can hardly call it a romance, there’s barely any love, mostly satisfaction of physical needs, a matter of convenience, a stress relief if you will. If there’re any warm feelings for him in you – they’re unrequited, Messmer seems cold.
However, a true romance with Messmer is a slowburn. It’ll take a lot of time, effort and patience and can be very frustrating. That being said, while it’s hard to get him to feel the feels, once you finally manage such a feat – it’s like a rolling snowball: he gets more and more romantic as time passes, reaching Shakespearean levels. Roses, poems, fancy pet names, never-ending courtship. At this point he doesn’t expect anything from you in return, just accept his advances and he’ll be the happiest demigod.
He does battle practices every(or almost every)day and regards it as a chore at this point. The Impaler used to enjoy training fights in the days long gone, now, after all these years of iterance, it’s simply vexing and monotonous. However, when you’re invited to either participate or spectate, Messmer’s much more enthusiastic, trying to impress you, showing off his best, most powerful moves. He barely hides his desire to be praised, wanting to hear in full detail which attack of his you liked the most and why. Invents new techniques just to keep you entertained and amazed.
If you’re having a spar, Messmer’s not the one to go easy on you, he wouldn’t disrespect you like this, so most of the time either the win is his or he declares a draw. That is unless he feels you need a boost of confidence, then, and only then, he’ll pretend to lose. He’s a good actor.
The serpents gravitate towards you and enjoy being petted, they love resting their heads on your chest and thighs, but it greatly embarrasses their master, he deems it incredibly inappropriate.
At first he didn’t like you touching his hair: where are your manners? Where did you lost your respect for his authority? He’s not a pet to be coddled and toyed with. And besides, the red hue is cursed, why would you even like it in the first place..? Yet eventually it grew on him, big time. Messmer would take off his helmet around you hoping you’ll get his silent invitation. He relishes in the feeling of your fingers combing through his strands, the way they’re brushing against his scalp gently... He may just fall asleep in your arms like this.
His skin is usually cold (because snakes are cold-blooded, yes), but Messmer can make himself quite hot with his fire magic. Always does it before touching you, incentivizing you to associate comfort and warmth with his presence. Before cuddling Messmer heats up his chest the most, so you’d snug even closer to him. In fact, he does this trick so often that you genuinely think he’s naturally very warm.
The man is bigger than you, so he’s a natural big spoon, yet he would love for you to hold him instead. All these centuries being a fearsome pinnacle of strength… Now he wants to be soft and vulnerable, if only with you and just for a little while.
Messmer is in constant physical pain, equal parts because of the curse and because of the blessing. The pain is just as much of a companion to him as are his winged serpents. He’s so used to that unending, dull ache that when you manage to relieve some of it with your gentle handling Messmer is ecstatic. He gets more sleep, looks healthier and happier, hunches less.
Also, I wanted to touch on his early life. We see Godwyn and Miquella as the gregarious type characters, as much as canon allows it, but I also think that Messmer back in the day was something of a socialite himself. After all, his knights absolutely loved him, so much so that they abandoned their birthrights for him.
On top of having admirable combat proficiency, Messmer had a great deal of charisma and possessed a witty sense of humor. He always seemed to know what to say and when to say it. A perfect balance between humility and splendor. He was laid back enough to hang out with commoners and foot soldiers, as if they were equals.
Judging by his friendship with Gaius, an albinauric, and his possible inferiority complex caused by his curse, he most definitely had a soft spot for the accursed and destitute, enamoring others even more with his genuine kindness.
Now, after all these years of warfare and abandonment, Messmer is, like it’s famously said, “a shadow of his former self” – he’s a sullen shut-in, a paranoid overthinker with severe depression.
Here’s a list of general headcanons for Messmer the Impaler with a romantic flare. Some of those are kinda obvious, but I still wanted to write them down. The reader is vague and not necessarily tarnished. Enjoy~
Despite being steadfast and unyielding in his actions and appearances, inside all that composure Messmer is full of uncertainties, he tends to overthink everything and convince himself of the worst possible explanation for things. The man needs a great deal of reassurances to open his mind towards anything positive. For example, he can easily believe that you simply have something to gain from his affections, but it would take a lot of persuasion to make him trust in sincerity of your feelings.
It’s not that hard to start a fling with the Impaler. He doesn’t get a lot of action since literally everybody’s terrified of him either out of respect or hate. You’ve come this far and you’re not too afraid, so why not? You can hardly call it a romance, there’s barely any love, mostly satisfaction of physical needs, a matter of convenience, a stress relief if you will. If there’re any warm feelings for him in you – they’re unrequited, Messmer seems cold.
However, a true romance with Messmer is a slowburn. It’ll take a lot of time, effort and patience and can be very frustrating. That being said, while it’s hard to get him to feel the feels, once you finally manage such a feat – it’s like a rolling snowball: he gets more and more romantic as time passes, reaching Shakespearean levels. Roses, poems, fancy pet names, never-ending courtship. At this point he doesn’t expect anything from you in return, just accept his advances and he’ll be the happiest demigod.
He does battle practices every(or almost every)day and regards it as a chore at this point. The Impaler used to enjoy training fights in the days long gone, now, after all these years of iterance, it’s simply vexing and monotonous. However, when you’re invited to either participate or spectate, Messmer’s much more enthusiastic, trying to impress you, showing off his best, most powerful moves. He barely hides his desire to be praised, wanting to hear in full detail which attack of his you liked the most and why. Invents new techniques just to keep you entertained and amazed.
If you’re having a spar, Messmer’s not the one to go easy on you, he wouldn’t disrespect you like this, so most of the time either the win is his or he declares a draw. That is unless he feels you need a boost of confidence, then, and only then, he’ll pretend to lose. He’s a good actor.
The serpents gravitate towards you and enjoy being petted, they love resting their heads on your chest and thighs, but it greatly embarrasses their master, he deems it incredibly inappropriate.
At first he didn’t like you touching his hair: where are your manners? Where did you lost your respect for his authority? He’s not a pet to be coddled and toyed with. And besides, the red hue is cursed, why would you even like it in the first place..? Yet eventually it grew on him, big time. Messmer would take off his helmet around you hoping you’ll get his silent invitation. He relishes in the feeling of your fingers combing through his strands, the way they’re brushing against his scalp gently... He may just fall asleep in your arms like this.
His skin is usually cold (because snakes are cold-blooded, yes), but Messmer can make himself quite hot with his fire magic. Always does it before touching you, incentivizing you to associate comfort and warmth with his presence. Before cuddling Messmer heats up his chest the most, so you’d snug even closer to him. In fact, he does this trick so often that you genuinely think he’s naturally very warm.
The man is bigger than you, so he’s a natural big spoon, yet he would love for you to hold him instead. All these centuries being a fearsome pinnacle of strength… Now he wants to be soft and vulnerable, if only with you and just for a little while.
Messmer is in constant physical pain, equal parts because of the curse and because of the blessing. The pain is just as much of a companion to him as are his winged serpents. He’s so used to that unending, dull ache that when you manage to relieve some of it with your gentle handling Messmer is ecstatic. He gets more sleep, looks healthier and happier, hunches less.
Also, I wanted to touch on his early life. We see Godwyn and Miquella as the gregarious type characters, as much as canon allows it, but I also think that Messmer back in the day was something of a socialite himself. After all, his knights absolutely loved him, so much so that they abandoned their birthrights for him.
On top of having admirable combat proficiency, Messmer had a great deal of charisma and possessed a witty sense of humor. He always seemed to know what to say and when to say it. A perfect balance between humility and splendor. He was laid back enough to hang out with commoners and foot soldiers, as if they were equals.
Judging by his friendship with Gaius, an albinauric, and his possible inferiority complex caused by his curse, he most definitely had a soft spot for the accursed and destitute, enamoring others even more with his genuine kindness.
Now, after all these years of warfare and abandonment, Messmer is, like it’s famously said, “a shadow of his former self” – he’s a sullen shut-in, a paranoid overthinker with severe depression.
The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Epilogue
TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist
Ao3 Link: archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/148604134
Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Explicit🌶️🌶️)
Category: F/M
Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree
Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader
Warnings: Smut // Oral F! and M! receiving // P in V // Fingering // Pregnancy //
Words: 6319
MASTERLIST // <- Part 14
AUTHOR NOTE:
Here we are, the end of the road. This Epilogue is a few random stories but tie up the ending of our BATB tale.
Thank you to everyone who has read this story, its the longest I've ever done and it was a blast writing. It took me out of my comfort zone but worth it. Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs. Love you all.
A few months have passed since meeting Messmer, his transformation and you situating yourself in the castle. Since you have found that bliss couples have, enjoying Messmer's company, his love, his sex. You both laugh and cry together. He has brought out a different side in you that you never thought you had, and you with him.
Since you have visited home as you previously intended, but first learning some mild healing incantations from Messmer’s library. Visiting home you were able to aid your mother and father to good health. You told them about Messmer and they were pleased for you. You asked if they would move to the Lands Between, however they declined.
They were proud of you, and wished for you to spread your wings. You told them of the mirror that they could see you everyday. However your mother cupped your face and said it was okay, you were ready to start your own family.
***
Messmer found you in the library, of course. He wanted to confess something, his skin burned and his cheeks flushed. His mouth was dry despite knowing you would just laugh it off.
“My love.” He mutters, hand on your shoulders and turning you away from your book.
You look up at him smiling. You toy with your braid, the symbol of your love, your unofficial matrimony.
“I wish to tell thee something.” Messmer runs his hands through his copper hair, now longer than before, trailing down his back. You feel Ophis and Fidi on your arms and shoulders.
You remain silent, big eyes blinking at him. You watch as he breathes in slowly and lets out his breath.
“Back when we had our first dinner and we danced.” He takes your hand in his, running his thumb over the knuckles. “I, um.” His cheeks flush dark red. You tilt your head and knit your brows but remain smiling at him. “I saw you, pleasuring yourself.” He looks at you but then away.
You let out a laugh. “You saw me? How?” you ask, completely unbothered that he saw you.
“The mirror,” he mutters, “I wanted to see thee once more after we parted ways for the night and I saw thee,” he pauses, chewing his lip. “Mostly.”
You chuckle again, you bring his hand to your lips and kiss his shaking fingers. “My love, why are you telling me this now?” You ask genuinely confused.
“I didn’t want thee to not know and I didn’t want thee to think of me as some… debauched cretin.” He finally looks at you, his amber snake eyes darting over your face.
“Messmer, my dear, I would never think of you that way and besides, I would have never known if you never told me.” You step forward and wrap your arms around his skinny waist. You hold him for a moment before feeling his arms scoop around your thighs and hoisting you up face to face with him. You let your legs wrap around his hips.
“Am I a fool?” He asks.
“No, just in love.” You peck his carved soft lips. “I do have a question though.” A spark shimmers in your eyes and messmer catches it. He smirks.
“Yes, my love?”
You bite your lower lip between your teeth, blinking slowly.
“Did you like what you saw?”
He blushes. “Very much so.”
You lean towards his ear, whispering. “Do you want another show?” You hear him groan, a deep rumble in his chest. He doesn’t answer, just holds you closer to him and starts to move towards the love seat in the corner. You squeak as he drops you onto the seat. Kneeling before you, he spreads your legs and hitches up your skirt.
***
A year has passed since that day your cart got stuck in the mud, a year since you trailed through the forest and found yourself standing at the base of a grand blackened castle. A year since you bravely dared to enter into the castle and wander around. A year since you met Messmer.
Now, you both stand in front of his mothers statue, her cradling a young messmer, while you cradle your swollen belly. You dawn a dark blue gown, lined with gold and silver, your hair in braids and decorated with ribbons and jewels. Your arm wrapped with a red ribbon, matching Messmers. You look up at him while he looks down at you. He smiles but you still see the hurt behind his eyes.
He steps forward and gestures in front of the statue, the magic sealing the entrance shut flickers and sparkles and fades away. Messmer pulls a small lever, causing the statue to move, stone scraping stone and dust penetrates your nose.
The sun shines brightly behind the statue and comes into view, blinding you. You move your arm to shield your eyes and let them adjust. You feel Messmer behind you, hands on your shoulders as he guides you forward.
Once your eyes adjust, you’re met with a vast, breathtaking view. Multiple coloured flowers and lush trees, a small stream and grand golden tree stand before you. Your breath catches in your throat at the beautiful sight. Messmer holds your hand and guides you down the stairs till your bare feet step onto the softest, greenest grass. The warmth of the sun heats your skin, you hear birds sing and the gentle breeze swaying the leaves on the trees.
For a moment you thought you’d ascended to the heavens, to the life after death it was stunning. You felt a kick in your stomach, you placed your hand on your bump and smile.
Fidi and Ophis coil around you, they’ve become extra protective since your pregnancy. They eye the treeline and castle walls, guarding you from any harm. You reach up and scratch under Fidi’s chin.
“They like this place,” you reach for Messmer’s hand, his fingers so long they cover your bump. He feels the kicks and smiles.
Turning away from you, you let him step into the meadow alone. Messmer told you this was his mothers and his birthplace. He doesn’t recall it, but he knew he was born here. He had not been back here since the castle was built, but he needed to protect the land.
He turns to you, the sun behind him creating a halo around his copper hair, his eyes shimmer and smile melts your insides. You want to cry at how beautiful he is, how much you love him. You reach out your hand and link your fingers with his, slowly you both walk through the wildflowers, pinks, whites, purples and oranges.
Despite your condition, you walk up towards a village, buildings decayed and broken, mills no longer spinning. You feel a lump in your throat. You think of Messmer and how he should have been raised here, but instead he was brought up inside royal walls.
You keep walking till you reach an opening, more wildflowers dance in the wind and in the middle of the field, a small golden tree shimmers in the light.
“My mothers final goodbye after her people were…” he trails off, unable to finish his words. You squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. “This is a minor Erdtree, it is meant to heal.” He lets his fingers glide through the translucent branches, glitter shines around his fingers.
“Time heals, Messmer.” you mutter. He lets out a breathy chuckle and kisses the top of your head. He gestures to higher into the village towards a grey dying tree. For a moment you though your eyes tricked you, what you thought was just a tangled mess of branches in the trunk, was actually a woman. You felt your blood run cold for a moment.
“This was the Grandmother.” he knees down, bowing to her. You curtsy as best as you can in your condition. “She was long before mine, or my mother’s time. I was told she was the healer, the midwife, the mother to all.”
Carefully you step closer to her, you feel a warmth from her like when your own mother was near. You smile at her, yet she remains a statue.
“She looks like the portraits of your mother.” You tilt your head.
“She does.” Messmer murmurs, sadness coating his voice.
You bend over and kiss Messmer on his head, gently stroking his hair and basking in the blissful surroundings. You feel the soft scales around your arms and shoulders.
“What if they end up like me?” He whispers, pain and anger in his voice. “Cursed?”
It never occurred to you that your child might be different, despite the breaking of Messmers abyssal curse, he was still a demi-god and still had some serpent-omen in him. You think for a moment, but shake your head.
“Would your love change if they were?” you ask him. He shakes his head, amber eyes shining up at you.
“Never, I am nay my mother, I would love them till my dying breath.” He shivers, tears lining his eyes. “I still wish for her to blesseth our child.” Messmer gently rubs your swollen stomach and you cover his hand with yours. You both stand in silence and listen to the wind, you feel the warmth of the sun on your back, you let the magic flow through your veins.
You feel a whisper in the back of your mind, something tickling the base of your skull. You cannot decipher the words but you feel calm and reassured for a moment. Messmer leans his forehead to your belly, you hear him mutter some ancient text but you don’t understand. You let him wash away his fears, his doubts, his anger.
He kisses your stomach and you feel the little one kick. Messmer slowly stands and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small knife. He grasps one of his braids that also has a ribbon entwined with the strands, one you picked for him, and slices it free from his form. He holds it in his palm, he stares at it as if waiting for it to set aflame.
Shaking his head from his thoughts, he lets Ophis and Fidi flick their tongues to the strand, he then brings it to his own lips and kisses it tenderly and then to you. It smells like him and it softens your stiff muscles.
Messmer kneels again and places the braid beneath the statue, alongside a golden braid you missed. Marika’s.
He mutters ancient words again and finally stands tall and slithers his arm around your back.
“Let’s get thee back side.” he begins to lead you away. You pause and look out at the meadow.
“I wish to stay a little longer.”
***
“Nine, Ten. Ready or nay, hereth I come!” Messmer calls out into the seemingly empty castle, his voice echoing between the walls. He treads carefully as if to not make any noise.
He looks behind curtains, tugging the fabric away from the walls. He instructs Ophis and Fidi to remain low to the ground and under furniture. His smile beams as he plods through the hallway and into the dinning room.
He hears giggles coming from somewhere, the gentle laughter echoing through the halls.
Tip-toeing he steps around the grand dinner table, asking Ophis and Fidi if they see anything. They shake their heads no. Messmer furrows his brow and exits the room. He slowly steps to the sun-room, the room is filled with wooden toys, books and garlands of all sorts of colours. He peaks behind the sofa, nothing. He looks in the cupboard, empty.
Another string of giggles causes him to spin around, he feels Ophis tug as she rises towards the ceiling and looks around the chandelier. She returns and shakes her head. A small twang of worry shoots through Messmer.
“Thou art a very good hider!” He calls out, voice shaking. He exits the room and quickens his paces as he marches back through the hallway, he hears another giggle and spins around. He hears rustling from the corner behind the starway. His old mantle is in a pile on the floor, the fabric twitches and he smiles to himself.
“Oh, I do not recall leaving my clothes here.” Messmer smiles harder and steps over to the fabric pile. “I shall need to get it washed immediately!”
He scoops up the mantel and inside comes a high-pitched squeal.
“That is truly bizarre. I don't recall my clothes making such noises.” he grabs the mantle and pulls it away. Coiled under the fabric, a little girl wriggles and screams.
“You foundeth me!” Your little girl calls out, arms flying outwards and wrapping around Messmers neck. He laughs and pulls the girl close, planting kisses to her bright copper hair. She pulls away, her golden snake eyes shimmer in the light. Messmer feels he sees a copy of himself. But, she looks just like you.
“That I did, little one.” He kisses her cheek before settling her down on the ground.
“Daddy is good at finding me!” The girl calls out and jumps up and down. “Again!”
Before Messmer could reply, she runs off out of view down the hall.
Behind him, he hears a warmer soft laugh, he turns and sees you standing at the top of the stairs with two children perched on both hips, one asleep while the other coos and squeals when they see Messmer.
“Dada!” cries the toddler. Messmer hurries up the stairs, arms out and fingers motioning to grab one of the twins.
“My love, here let me helpeth.” He scoops up the bouncing toddler. He plants a kiss to his golden hair before leaning down to kiss the other sleeping toddler. He strokes her hair that matches yours. Finally, he moves to you smiling from ear to ear. You reach your free hand to his cheek and stroke his cheekbone. He leans forward and kisses you tenderly.
“I love our little family.” you whisper into the kiss. Ophis and Fidi nudge your cheek and flick out their tongues at the children.
He looks down at his children, he hears the yell from his other little girl from down the hall. “Daddy, come find me!” and he looks at you laughing.
“I adore them too, my love.”
***
Messmer grabs your wrist as you walk past one of the empty rooms. You let out a squeal as you’re dragged inside. Before you could register what was going on, Messmer shoves you to the door and slams it shut. Leaning down he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. Tongues and hands crowd you.
You hum against his mouth, eyes wide, but you feel your cunt warm and slowly turn wet.
He pulls away from your lips, trailing kissing over your jaw and down your neck.
“Messmer!” you pant out, already out of breath, “The children!”
He chuckles into your warming skin, slowly kneeling before you. He paws at your breast, his other hand cupping your hip and squeezing your plump flesh. He loves that you’ve gained weight since birthing your children. He loves to squeeze and knead at you.
Wiggling, you feel him smack your ass gently and tut.
“I’ll be quick” he looks up at you and his eyes are blown out black, filled with lust. Before you could protest, he flicks your skirt over his head and dives straight for your pussy. He kisses your mound and thighs, letting his tongue taste your salty skin.
“Messmer!” you try and push his head away but he doesn’t budge. Instead you grab the door behind you and hoist your leg over his shoulder. You feel him chuckle into inner thigh.
“That’s right my love.”
He licks one long stripe up your wet folds, tasting you. Not even giving you a second to think, he sucks your clit between his lips, tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive bud. Your hips thrust to meet his licks. You let out a rather loud moan and slap your hand over your mouth. His fingers dig harshly into your skin, keeping you still as he suckles you.
You already feel close to your orgasm, your heart beats heavy in your chest as you hear Messmer’s obscene slurping and grunts under your skirt. You feel your thighs start to shake as he brings you to your climax. He nips at your clit, you swear you can feel him smiling.
“Come for me” he mutters as he plunges two fingers deep within your fluttering hole without warning. You yelp into your palm as he furiously fucks you with his fingers, pounding into your sweet spot over and over. Closing your eyes, you see stars as you orgasm hard, clenching around his slender fingers and feel slick drip around them. He doesn’t let up, licking at your swollen pulsating bud like it's his last time.
“Mess-Messmer, please” you beg. He finally pops off your clit, crawling out from under your skirts. His chin and lips glistening with your slick, he wipes it off with the hem of your skirt and you frown at him, slapping his shoulder.
He stands over you, pressing you into the door, his throbbing erection rubs against your stomach. You quickly look down at it tenting his tunic, wrapped around his waist, dangerously low. You cock your eyebrow at him and he smirks. You open your mouth to speak, he sharply turns you around and your face presses into the wooden door. He cups your ass and squeezes.
You let out a moan as you feel your skirt being lifted over your ass. You shake your head and turn to look at him over your shoulder.
“You’re too tall for that” you comment. He merely grunts at you. He drops your skirt and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you from the door and towards a nearby loveseat. He drops you in front of an arm-rest, higher than a normal seat, designed for the tall demi-gods. He gently pushes you down, your stomach pressing into the plush fabric.
Your feet dangle off the edge, your face nearly pressing into the seat. You turn your head just to watch out of the corner of your eye as he flips your skirt back over your waist. He gently draws his long finger up the seam of your pussy. He taps your ass with a gentle slap, not enough to hurt but enough to make you squeak.
Messmer simply pulls his skirts down past his hips, cock springing free.
“I’ll be quick.” he mutters, biting his lip.
He runs his incredible length over your wet folds, coating him in slick before sinking into you slowly. You’ve become accustomed to his size, he easily slots into you with ease. You let out a sigh as he brushes past your pleasure spots.
He lingers deep inside for a moment, letting you adjust before he pulls back and slammed back into you, each thrust faster than the next.
You pant, drool seeping out the side of your mouth onto the plush velvet fabric below. Messmer grunts at each thrust, you hear him rumble deep in his chest as he pounds into you.
It didn’t take long till you felt his hips shudder and falter, the twitch of his cock signalling he was close. His thick heavy balls tap your swollen clit beautifully. Your walls start to flutter as you draw close to your second orgasm. A few harsh pounds later, you clamp down around his thick cock, sucking him in. Loudly you moan out, calling his name over and over till you feel his thick cock pulse inside you. Messmer throws his head back as he cums inside you, thick seed coating your walls, a little dribbling out from your abused hole.
He lets himself come back to reality. He leans over you, rocking his hips into your very sensitive pussy a few more times before planting a kiss to your forehead. He pulls out of you slowly, you both moan at the loss of contact.
He pulls his skirts back over his softened cock and looks at you, bent over, ass red and thighs shaking. His cum dripped down your seam and over your clit. He swears he feels himself twitch already at the sight alone.
He gives you one last tap on the ass before he covers you with your skirt. He helps you up back over the armrest, and you flop onto the sofa, out of breath and face flushed. You can feel his seed dripping out of you, coating your inner thigh.
Messmer smiles at you and struts out of the room, a cocky sway to his hips.
***
You sit on your shared bed, three children and two snakes coiled around them are slowly falling asleep, a fire cracking from the fireplace. Snow falls gently outside the window and falls onto the balcony. Messmer holds you from behind, you feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his hand coiled around your waist and resting on your swollen stomach.
You turn the final page, taking in a deep breath, filled with happiness, love and content.
"Then, he was transformed back into a handsome Prince.” You let out a breathy laugh. You turn to Messmer, he kisses your forehead. “They fell in love and married soon after.”
You close the book quietly, resting into Messmer’s hold.
So how does Messmer's story interact with a theme of autonomy?
OMG FUCKING FLAPPING MY HANDS SO HARD AT THIS ASK GLAD YOU FUCKING ASKED ANON 💞✨💞✨💞✨
Okay, sorry it took me one grillion years to get this posted, but it is basically an essay and I also have Many Life Events that prevent me from getting a chance to sit down and write. I have many thoughts. I will put them under a read more.
When I say Messmer’s story is about autonomy, I mean this specifically in relation to disability.
To me, the base serpent functions as an allegory for some sort of disability. We know the base serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame—this is his curse, to have this eldritch thing gnawing at his soul.
Now how is the base serpent treated by those around Messmer? And how does it affect his life? (Answer: negatively)
Let’s start with how the serpent itself functions as an independent agent. For a moment please forget what I said about it being a disability metaphor—it still is but that’s a mystery mouskatool for later. Right now we’re gonna talk about it as a living entity of its own.
As I pointed out, the serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame, and this harm and how intertwined it has become with Messmer’s existence limits Messmer. It has affected his view of himself to the point it limits his choices in life. How to present himself—with or without flame? He associates his flame with the serpent. How to fight—with or without the serpent’s power? It doesn’t seem to hurt him to use the serpent, but it does make others uncomfortable.
The harm itself of the serpent using Messmer as a food source is also a very basic imposition on Messmer’s autonomy. Of course he doesn’t want an eldritch snake gnawing at him like a chew toy, but the serpent is not going to leave him alone. It does not give him his own space and freedom.
Messmer tries to remove his flame not because the flame itself is a curse, but because it attracts something which is. That’s deeply fucking sad. He’s trying to remove parts of himself—to change himself fundamentally—just to get basic freedom and autonomy.
Now let’s also look at how others see the base serpent. For example, Marika.
Listen. She tried her best with him but I do wonder when the grace seal happened. It seems (to me at least, though we have no confirmed timeline) to have been done early in his life given the language used to describe the serpent. This was urgent. Marika was very worried about this wicked serpent and what it was doing to her son! This is important, by the way—that she does these things out of love.
Marika is also, however, deeply concerned with her own ideals. For example, light, the source of her own grace and of Messmer’s power. Messmer seems to scorn those “devoid of light” as he puts it. Darkness in itself is a curse under the Golden Order. Perhaps she wants to save the flame within Messmer for this reason, although there is definitely the motivation of that is her son.
The dual motivations, to both protect someone and to enforce our ideals of what is “best” is what hurts so many disabled folks. Sometimes “normal” is not attainable—and it doesn’t have to be! What disabled people find normal or doable or comfortable is fine, and they should have the agency to say so. That’s where I see autonomy really coming into Messmer’s story as an important motif.
Messmer is unfortunately born into a society that, at least to Marika, seems prejudiced against the strange. He is born into a world that would hate him for having the base serpent (though that is no fault of his own). And instead of trying to change this faulty thinking in others, Marika changes her son.
Her healing is…a mixed bag. The blessings Marika makes for her son seem alright. That’s non-invasive medicine, and it’s not like she’s forcing these down Messmer’s throat. But the grace seal is more iffy. Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about the grace seal and whether that’s really accommodation. It does send a certain message that, uh, a core part of Messmer deserves to be locked away for eternity, which is not healthy for anyone to hear.
But I can understand why Marika did it, too. She thinks she is healing/accommodating her son and making life livable. And maybe she is! The base serpent we see in the second phase of the fight looks painful. But that is also a manifestation of something that has been repressed for centuries and is boiling over.
I wanna know what the base serpent was like when he was born! Was it truly “wicked?” Did it want to hurt others, or just go after Messmer’s flame? Both? Was the base serpent just something Marika was uncomfortable with, because it took light from her son? How necessary is that light? I wanna know how necessary the grace seal was!
We know Marika had Messmer after her apotheosis—he is a demigod, after all. So at this point she is already being affected by the Greater Will and ideals that will become the Golden Order. I do think Messmer of all her children probably had the least of this Order forced upon him, but that isn’t to say he had none. He was in the Lands Between at some point, based on the fire giants and Impaler’s Catacombs. He did have to conform to some degree to be accepted.
He definitely had to conform to be accepted in Leyndell. People in the Shadow Lands may be accepting—we see Hornsent and no one gives a damn—but the Misbegotten and Omen in the Lands Between (who look a lot like hornsent, mind you)? Treated like absolute shit, because of the Order. There is no way Messmer was escaping such treatment, no matter if he was a demigod.
The grace seal could be accommodation, but it is also a manifestation of Marika’s and the Order’s ideals and the pressure to conform—to give up autonomy for safety (which is really no choice at all).
Above all, what Marika and/or Messmer do to “heal” him does nothing to fix societal prejudice. Nothing here fights for autonomy or freedom. Not the blessings, not the seal—I mean it’s a fucking seal, a lock.
And it only hides the base serpent, instead of actually fighting it, which in the end leads to destruction.
It is not necessarily a kindness to try to treat or cure a disability if you are not also working to undo the prejudice against said disability and provide accommodations. It is not necessarily a kindness to try to cure a disability which doesn’t need curing. And it is no kindness to demand disability be swept under the rug because it is not palatable enough to you.
This is where we see loss of autonomy.
Messmer is such a walking tragedy. He’s just doomed from the start. Marika is trying, but she’s not fixing the world, just continuing its cycles of violence. And even if she didn’t give him the seal, the base serpent would’ve been spurned.
As a last aside/point, I wanna discuss how Messmer deals with his own situation as a disabled person (and more generally a minority class) because it reflects something in the real world.
Messmer accepts the verdict that part of himself should be hidden, and that being what he is is bad, and he goes on to further this notion. He destroys the people his mother wants him to destroy. He commits genocide for many reasons, but one of them is because it guarantees a scrap of power under the Order. He preserves the status quo instead of fighting against it, and he tries to be “one of the good ones” to save himself as much as he can within a system that hates him.
He is someone who is not good enough for the order, and he is lightless, but at least he is denying himself to try to be like the oppressors.
Which gets you nowhere by the way. Being one of the good ones is never enough, and it will destroy you in the end.
For the character meme. I love your hornsent OCs and thus wanted to know your thoughts on Messmer!
Ah, thanks for the kind words about my guys, I love them and I appreciate it so much! And what about Messmer... ho-ho, that's a tricky one. Anyways, let's go.
favorite thing about them
First of all, I have a lifelong weakness for morally ambiguous red-haired spearsmen, as sir Ornstein can confirm. But fine, that was a joke, let's get serious for a moment. The key thing for Messmer, the core of his story and his character, is love. He loves his mother - quite simple, isn't it? But in fact no, it isn't simple. Because he loves her, more than anything else in the world, more than himself. This love is bigger than any destruction and harm it brings, even to Messmer himself, this love is the reason for all things, it's the basis of all things. And Messmer can't hurt what he loves so much, he can't deny this love, he can't deny his mother, because if he does, what's next? It was everything. Literally everything. So of course he does things for her, some things that he likes, some things that he doesn't like, some things that he would never do if not her. I think I can relate with this after a fashion, but this is not what made me love his story and his character. I love it because in the end of the day that love was hollow. It wasn't enough to overcome fear, hatred and vengeance. It wasn't enough for Marika to save Messmer, and he realizes it...
least favorite thing about them
...too late. I don't believe that Messmer sympathized with the hornsent in a slightest during his crusade, but I do believe that he had his doubts that grew as time - and war - went on. I'm sure he, unlike most of the crusaders, knew the truth about the shamans, about his mother's vengeance - and his mother was everything to him, right? He had no reason to sympathize with savages capable of such horrific acts - and so he didn't, completely ignoring how horrific and savage he himself was. It was for his mother and the new civilized world she was building, so what's wrong with a little hypocrisy here? But the war went on and on and on, and the lands were shrouded in shadows, and the mother stopped answering, and Messmer and his army were left in oblivion, alone with the deserved hatered, far from everything they had fought for. Their purpose got blurred, their guidance faded, and I believe that's when Messmer began to ask himself - why? Why is he going on, why is he fighting? And he could have answered that question - but he didn't, because the answer was "there's no reason", because answering meant acknowledging that nothing he had done really mattered, that all his love and suffering was a waste. Eventually, he was not strong enough - brave enough - to admit it before his dying breath, which was too late. I can't say I dislike his ending (I'm writing it in this paragraph mainly because I'm too curious to see an alternative), but I still wish he could overcome his fear earlier, when it could still change something - though it's a FromSoft game, so obviously it's not an option given their brilliant taste in tragedy.
favorite line
It's always hard to pick favourite lines in a FromSoft game, because... idk, I just love the dialogue and the voice acting in these games. But if I had to choose, it would be...
Embrace thine oblivion, as shall I.
Just because how utterly summarizing it is, for both the character himself and for the whole Land of Shadow.
brOTP
My glorious boar-riding man Gaius! I just love how Messmer, mommy's personal machine for eradicating everything graceless, befriended artificial (!) graceless (!!) dude who was persecuted by almost everyone in the Lands Between and made him his deputy. It's also mentioned that they had common ground in that they both were cursed from birth, so their friendship seems to come from a genuine understanding of each other's struggle. In general, I think that this is an interesting adittion to Messmer's overall portrait and a bittersweet dynamic of two cursed beings finally finding understanding in one another.
OTP
Rellana, because I'm a hopeless fan of the "liege and their a bit too loyal knight" dynamic. However, I hc their relationships as unresolved/platonic because both of them put their duty in the crusade first, and it's generally not a smart move to show open love when you're surrounded by people who'd gladly take away everything you love as revenge. I also don't like it when Rellana is reduced to just Messmer's gf instead of a fearsome sorceress and military commander in her own right.
nOTP
To be honest, I have yet to see a pairing with him that would straight up frustrate me. For the most part, my reaction is just indifference. But if I had to pick one, it would probably be Godwyn/Messmer, just because there are so many so much more interesting dynamics for both of them.
random headcanon
He was the son of Radagon and Marika, born during Marika's marriage to Godfrey, and was officially recognized as a bastard (this is why he's sir Messmer and not lord Messmer). In the beginning Godfrey wasn't a big fan of him for obvious reasons, but over time their relationship became more tender; by the time of Godfrey's exile Messmer sincerely viewed him as father, even without blood relation.
unpopular opinion
I don't thing he had a close relationship with Melina - in fact, I don't think he was even aware of her existence. Fandom often portrays them as twins for some reason, but the "younger sister" can be centuries younger when we're talking about demigods - and in my hcs, she was. So no cute Melina&Messmer fanart for me.
song i associate with them
Белая гвардия - Песня рядового
I know, I know, the language and all that, but just trust me, the lyrics hits hard considering Messmer.
I honestly imagine child!messmer to be pretty clumsy, easily scared and not the strongest. His long build, long arms and longs legs + his rather thin triangle build not being really helpful as a kid. I knew a girl with such a build (well in normal human standards) and damn. She had some trouble when it came to PE (same here 🤝). Anyway you can't tell me Messmer was always a powerful beast. He was a scared child, being probably seeing as an abomination by some people and his mother being his comfort, his safe heaven and his guidance. And especially that makes it much more painful when you realize how far he went for her, how he became who he is... Only to be abounded in the end.
This is no slander against Marika my friends. Honestly, Elden Ring is such a neutral game... Like I don't really think that most of it's important NPCs, Enemies or fractions can be put in one category. There is good and evil in almost everything.
But yeah. Messmer feels like the child born with the presence of a monster that he and other wanted to oppress... Only to turn himself into his own monster.
Someone really said we shouldn't take Messmer's last words ( when he cursed Marika) seriously because he was demonically possessed by the abyssal serpent ijbol
I do not think that it was the case either! My impression from his phase transition was more of him finally giving into his serpentine nature, and thus, finally allowing himself to feel his true feelings!
"Hatred that would be confined" here can mean both him hating himself (since fire is a hazard to the Erdtree, evidenced by Fire of Ruin and Destined Death, so why not his?) OR hating her for having forsaken him! Except... they are not mutually exclusive. He could have hated himself for existing as something that could inevitably bring ruin to everything she created and hated her for abandoning him!
Like other characters in the DLC, he is aware that we've been called by Grace of Gold, her creation, to become her new Lord! Nonetheless, he decides to still disrespect what counts as her wishes, which already gives something away, at least for me. It could be that him taking Crusade beyond just vengeance, to fascism level, WAS what split them apart, and he is still convinced he knew what was better for purity and life of her Order better than her (LOOOOVE this version because it makes him even scarier). It could be jealousy, because some nobody Tarnished would get the chance to fix things for her when he tried to do the same and yet she was not "grateful". It could be that this "purpose" he took up for her feels like the only thing still connecting them, since she is not coming back. It could be many things that I can keep listing!
Yet, at the same time, he asks her forgiveness before removing the seal! So, killing someone he (correctly) believes she is awaiting is a lesser crime than removing the seal she gave to him to keep Base Serpent away? I think it is very telling that the root of how much he hates his flame is her hatred of it.
( x ) Perhaps, by being deadset on killing everyone spurn of her grace, he sort of overcompensates for how much he hates himself for being graceless (in a way, 'shorn of light' is very blatant)... He can't fix his nature, nor can she, but he could remove her OTHER pains and grudges. He is compensating!.. like, for how much he wishes to never having been born, or something...
Damn this got weirdly sad And a simpler interpretation is that it was just a cry of pain, because he was dying and she was not there for him. Or maybe it was the horror of feeling like he was to fall into Abyss, since he removed the seal? Not that I ever died in my life yet, but I'd imagine that thoughts and emotions upon violent death would not be very rational!
I really want some help with Japanese description of this item, because this "but never again" feels like some sort of grudge. Like that she realised it was useless; not so much because what afflicted him was untreatable, but because she deemed him not worthy of any more chances! You see what I mean! Again, English choices of words should be taken with a grain of salt.
Messmer also was not "possessed" by Base Serpent, he became Base Serpent! Saying you will be taken in jaws by a serpent shorn of light, he means himself! He has a habit of addressing himself in third face already, saying that you will meet death in the embrace of "Messmer's" flame, not "his" flame! There is definitely some parallel with Malenia unleashing Scarlet Rot again just to not lose to us, but whereas Scarlet Rot is confirmed to eat away at people's personality and memories (Millicent's questline), nothing said it was the case for the Base Serpent!
(Images by Zlofsky as usual) All statues of Marika in the Lands Between are missing heads... except for one, depicting her as a mother holding a child, hidden in his chamber by a veil. I need to check it later, but in at least three cases it makes no sense to be this way: one in the Church of the Crusade where Queelign hangs out, another surrounded by his soldiers, and another in Shadow's Keep itself! UNLESS, he is the one responsible for crashing the images of her head...?
It feels like he has been very conflicted long before this dreadful moment of unleashing his serpentinge nature! He did not want to think of her because it hurt, but also still wished to be held by her again. Considering the statues, it feels like he hated her as a Goddess, but loved her as a mother. So, he hates her divine existence, her as an owner of the Erdtree, a "destined victim" of all fires, but also knows it can't be separated from her and follows her design. Perhaps, follows TOO much.
Basically it IS a reasonable assumption that upon his death, he's been feeling as though he did everything he could for her, but that was not enough for her to see beyond her fear! Worse yet: she did try to love him, but "never again"! Hatred of abandoned child is a very intense thing, but it is also not a true hatred. It is more akin to cry for being accepted, but distorted into insults, curses, pushing away and such!
^^^ If this doesn't look like Humanity running wild manifestation of someone's own repressed self-hatred, loneliness and suffering getting unleashed I don't know what does fdhfdhs I don't know, man... I just think there is more evidence for the fact that he's been suffering because of her.
Elden Ring's DLC, Shadow of The Erdtree received a mixed response, but if there's one thing everyone agrees on, its that the Golden Hippo and Commander Gaius were dogshit bosses, Radahn being alive was a jumpscare, and Messmer The Impaler lived up to his hype.
Messmer has been in promotional material for the DLC. presented as another cursed child of Marika, and a zealot at that. A lucifer-esuqe demigod with a demonic snake motif that was willing to do things his mother wouldn't. He has been presented like this since day one, and his in-game presence certainly matches the expectations that have been set. One of the first enemies we encounter is a Fire Golem, a tool of mass execution, and one of the few pieces of lore that learn about while roaming the damaged Land of Shadows are that of the Impaler's successful crusade to eliminate the Hornsent. So immediately, Messmer's presence is properly established, and it's expanded upon the more we run into his forces and see the damage he's done, and he certainly lives up to this imagery.
Then... we learn things. We learn about Marika's origins, we learn about where the living jars come from, we learn about the Hornsent's own brutality, but most importantly, we learn more about a different side of Messmer. At the request of his men he surprisingly authorized a museum in his keep preserve aspects the Hornsent's culture, he was trying to figure out how to cure jarred people, and overall Messmer carries a surprisingly level of compassion that cracks through his ruthless exterior. It becomes clear that there is more to this zealot than one would have originally thought, and ultimately one thing becomes clear. Messmer had a heart, but its one he shut off in order to do what his mother requested even if she never intended to repay him for his services.
As for his curse? Messmer's curse since brith involved the same serpents that are tethered to his body. An abysmal serpent had found its way into his body, and is constantly being repressed by a grace given glass eye that Marika gave her son. Yet this curse still affected his life. The curse put great fear into Marika, this curse caused some of his own to defect, and ultimately it was this curse that would make him the perfect scapegoat for the personal vengeance crusade against the Hornsent that Marika ordered. No matter how much he denied it, Messmer was abandoned by his own mother.
Now, let us enter the actual boss fight. The Tarnished enters his chambers, and gets noticed by Messmer immediately. At first he considers them as another pest, before realizing what they are, briefly thinking that Marika granted this graceless one lordship. He soon snaps out of it, declaring that he'll burn this graceless one in the embrace of his flame. After getting his ass handed to him for a little bit, Messmer begins to get desperate, looking towards a statue of is mother and apologizing before removing the grace that repressed his curse. Then, his body appears sicklier, his power multiplies, and subconsciously he's accepted that he might never be welcomed back into the arms of his mother. And his final words?
A curse upon his own mother.
So yeah... Messmer The Impaler everyone. A butcher, a scapegoat, a good leader, a loyal monster, and a child crying for mommy until accepting that she's not coming for his ass.
