Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 20 [END]
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Summary: The end awaits, and Tarnished stares down at the abyss.
A/N: The final chapter... It's been long-awaited. I had been going back and forth on the ending for a long time; I knew I wanted to end it on a high note, whether people would like it or not is another thing. I knew Messmer and Tarnished needed that happier end to everything they've been through.
I hope this story has been something you've enjoyed reading. It was certainly something different I've written, but I am happy for this project to be done.
Happy reading, folks! This one is long.
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Chapter 20
"We will have our victory."
It echoes in your mind like the arrival of hope. It is your chant you think of when you escape from that room, up towards the final staircase; a lone site of grace greets you.
You turn to Ansbach, just as you both stand outside the veil, and whatever awaits you feels as if you're staring back into nothingness. "This is it," you murmur, "this is the end." You feel nauseous, a feeling you want to ignore, but it is strong and makes your legs feel unstable, your head lightheaded.
"Not the end, Lady Tarnished," he countered, "but a new beginning. One to carve anew over these lands."
"What will you do once this is over?"
"Wherever I am needed, I shall go." He eyes you carefully, and you dare dread he will not bring up Messmer to you. "Perhaps... her lady tarnished will find herself at his Lordship's council?"
You try not to laugh aloud at the statement, but you feel uncomfortably sweaty beneath your helm. You feel grateful Ansbach cannot see your face, your shifting eyes. "I shall go wherever I need to."
I shall be ash beneath the Impaler's feet if he wishes.
You think of the firstborn son, of how you would even face him if you saw him again: would there be stoicism? Anger? Or would you fall into his arms, and he would throw you away?
You tell yourself it's nothing, but deep down, you are really beginning to miss the idea of being with him.
"Our chance, Lady Tarnished," Ansbach pulled you from the deep thoughts you were stuck in. There was hope in his wizened voice, "Our future awaits."
When you pass through the veil of the entrance, you're taken aback by what greets you: the Gate of Divinity is an impressive, ghastly sight. It is composed of thousands, if not millions, of corpses, fused into two massive, misshapen columns. The gate is grey, calcified as if it has been lost to time. From your readings, you're aware that it was used to elevate Empyreans into godhood. Empyreans like Miquella. Your guard is up the moment you step through; every hair on you is sticking up on high alert.
This is wrong, so wrong.
Through the middle of the mighty columns, a figure stands, blinding and colossal, its figure illuminated in a golden light. You wish to believe it's not who you think it is, and when you turn to Ansbach, he looks just as tense as you feel.
“My loyal blade. And champion of the festival." A voice called out into the opening, youthful, boyish. You recognise the voice and your stance changes. "Both your deeds will ever be praised in song. Now, the vow will be honoured, and my Lord Brother’s soul will return. So that he may be my consort.”
You feel it, the ground rumbles, rocks begin to float as you watch this new version of Radahn unsheathe his swords, the grating sound of grinding metal churns in your ears. The dust settles as Radahn stares you down, not with any recognition, but with a look for total annihilation.
You cannot think of anything to say before he lunges into an attack: spinning into a gravity-rush towards the two of you. You barely have a chance to dodge, debris flies out in front when he lands. You watch as Ansbach flies back, and you only have the chance to land a heavy slash to his leg.
This... feels impossible. Fighting this version of Radahn shows how ruthless he is. He gives out long slashing attacks, which you struggle to roll out of the way of, quickly followed by an ability you noticed Mohg could achieve: the Bloodflame Slash.
You try to keep up with him, rolling, slashing, trying to add buffs to yourself when the time is right. You are knocked backwards before Radahn follows with a foot stomp, keeping you knocked to the ground, then a one-handed overhead slash. You don't have much time to avoid it, dodging most of it before you feel the grating feeling of metal hit you in your chest armour. You think you're dead, but Ansbach fills your field of vision, shielding you as you have time to get up and quickly heal.
It all feels like a recipe for disaster, but you put yourself back into the fight, trying to deal with as much of an attack now, albeit slightly weaker.
You slash him hard enough to knock him to his knees, similar to how Messmer was knocked to his when he was at his weakest. But as you're about to charge another attack, you feel it.
The air, already thick, fills with something that doesn't feel of this world. Holy. Divine. Righteous. Radahn begins to glow red, his eyes a soft golden hue, his swords crack through the dirt, loud and raucous. You see it, the gate between the columns begins to glow, radiant and bright. You shield your eyes as you're taken aback.
"Lord Brother. At long last, you are returned." The voice you've heard before, now louder, clearer. Miquella approaches from above, walking with purpose and dignity, one who believes themselves to be a god. "Tarnished one. Aspiring Lord of the old order. If you have known sin, if you grieve for this world, then yield the path forward to us."
"Miquella, this ends now!" You bellow over the sound of crushed dirt, rocks and debris.
You watch in horror and wonder as Miquella latches himself onto Radahn's back, cascading blond locks look to be one, giving him a new mane of gold.
"To I, Miquella, and my promised consort, Radahn."
There is something new about the way they fight now, something much more deadly than you're prepared for. Radahn produces holy light as he floats in the air. You call back to Ansbach to get as far away from them, knowing it would be far too impactful that neither of you could dodge.
Your enemy fights with vigor you've not seen since your interaction with Godwyn, and that had been brutal.
Radahn and Miquella land with a heavy thud that shakes the foundations of the plaza, as glowing light envelops your vision. You do the one thing you can think of doing, and that's ducking, trying to find a way to avoid any hits your way if directed at you.
Radahn charges at you when he knocks Ansbach to the ground, a sweeping attack has you rolling towards him from such a far reach.
You think things can't get worse, but what you don't realise rolling close to him would come to their advantage.
That is when you're grabbed.
The grip on you was crushing, your lungs were burning, bones were being crushed beyond anything you've experienced. You cry out, squirming pathetically as you try to get your arm free. Radahn raised you in his arms, your legs ache, your ribs crack as you continue to curse, not realising you're being lifted towards Miquella. The blond leaned into you, whispering in a sweet voice. "I promise you. A thousand-year voyage guided by compassion."
You felt it straight away, the pull from your conscience, the pull of your mind slowly wishing to be taken over. You shake his charm off you, as you're thrown to the ground in front of Miquella's consort's feet.
Shakily getting back up, you think it's over. Radahn is one sweep away from cutting you down. You're acting sluggish, cut down and worn as your energy begins to diminish. Through the gold of their being, Radahn is about to give a final hit when something hits them from the side. Miquella cries out, and Radahn takes his attention away from you, moving as one mind to protect his back, his attention on what has come through the veil.
The smell of cinder burns your nostrils, you think you're eyes are failing you, but when you see a flash of red of a mighty figure, you think you may be dreaming after all.
"O' brother, your arrival is most appreciated," Miquella responds earnestly to his red-haired opponent. Messmer rushes your way, spear aloft to the skies as he shields your body. You can only stare up at him, a mirage. You have so many questions: how did he find you? How far back was he? Mouth agape, you try to speak to him, "Messmer, I-"
"Thee didn't bethink I wouldst alloweth thee go by thyself?" The red-haired jests, something that shocks you further. He keeps his golden eye trained on his foes as he helps you to your feet using his arm, steadying you. It is only in a fraction where his eye trails down to you, sharing a split moment to look at one another. Neither of you speak right away; words die on your tongue, but your mind runs laps with all the things you want to say. What is right to say can wait.
There is silent determination written on his ashen face, and you can't help but feel that there is hope after all.
Messmer leads an attack on his brothers, as Ansbach and you follow. The Lord of the Shadow Keep is ferocious in his attacks, striking with poise as he cuts through them easily. Fire and ash fly in the already thick air. It burns your nostrils, but does not faze you. You hang back only to give smaller slashes when you can; your nagakiba slashes the back of Radahn's legs as he focuses mainly on Messmer as the larger threat. Both red-haired warriors seem to be able to dodge, slash and hit one another with precision, which leaves you wondering who is winning at some points.
"With me, Tarnished," Ansbach calls over his shoulder when he sees an opening, avoiding slashes when Messmer jumps back, the two of you both attack together.
You're caught off guard when Radahn jumps back into the air, before somersaulting quickly down onto your positions, smashing both his swords into the ground. The impact is quick, and you're flying backwards, far further than you realise. Time moves slowly when you realise you're being flung backwards. It's only when you land that you realise it won't be pretty, for a piece of calcified rock smashes into the back of your shoulder, and a popping sound rings in your ear. You crumple like a ragdoll, body burning from shoulder down to your fingers.
You scream out, hoping your shoulder is not broken, but it's bad luck as it's your dominant arm you've injured. You panic, thinking that this opportunity of being thrown down will leave you as the next target, but your body protests. Your ears are ringing, your bones scream, you swear you can hear your name- your true name- being called, but you're uncertain.
Messmer watches from afar as you're flung to the walls, your body crumpling. His instincts scream for him to help you first, but he knows he needs to be rid of his brothers. "Ansbach, aid me." He calls to the man, his ally, who all but nods as he advances. Messmer leaps into the air, driving his spear through with multiple attacks, jabbing and jabbing. The smell of singed royal blood sears into his nostrils, but he will not stop until he is rid of the threat.
Landing, the spears jut into multiple smaller ones, black and twisted, they spike through Radahn, holding him to the ground, as the hulking mass gives one final attempt to hit. Messmer dodges, lunges, watching Ansbach be hit, but there is an opening. With a final leap forward, Messmer lodges his spear deep through, managing to spear both in toll.
"Rest and be at peace," Messmer speaks somberly, but he is sincere, looking over the surprise on Miquella's face, before both dust away on the spot.
There is silence that follows, only the winds howl as Messmer looks around himself. He turns to see Ansbach's still body, dread fills his chest as he doesn't waste a second running to you.
"Tarnished!" The voice is louder, approaching you quickly, and a hand finds your waist as you're rolled over with ease. You smell it first, citrus mixed with ash, and your head instinctively falls to lean against him. He pulls your helm off, and your hair sticks to your skin uncomfortably.
"Starlight-- oh, forgive me for this." You don't understand what he means until his hands find your shoulder and, with as much control and speed, pops your shoulder back into place. The pain is one of surprise that you don't even have much of a chance to cry out, staring as Messmer fusses over you.
Eos and Fos slither down to comfort you, resting their serpentine heads across your chest. "Is it over?" Your voice is small thanks to the dryness in your throat, but it's loud enough over the silence.
Messmer only gives a nod, "T'is over."
Messmer finds your satchel, pulling forth your flask as he brings it to your lips first. You swallow greedily before he takes a sip. Your limbs feel heavy, but no pain comes from them anymore; however, your shoulder feels weaker. You know it will heal with time or sitting down at a site of Grace.
"A-Ansbach, is he-" You look up to him, but the demigod does not meet your concerned gaze. You know what it means, and when you pull yourself up with Messmer's aid, you wish to see for yourself. You only have to stare into the distance before you can cast your gaze away. "Let us bury him. He was loyal to the end."
"And then," he looks to you, and there is that hope you see, the hope that you will agree, "we shalt travel home."
It tugs at your chest, the pull for a home you never had, and you don't even realise tears are threatening to fall. Part of you knew it, from being so far gone without him, he was already your home.
"Yes, then we can go home."
Messmer has not left your bedside since you managed to get back to the Keep. Your tall shadow, a constant companion, he tends to you as tenderly as possible, getting you meals, reading to you and dressing you. He keeps you in his chambers, for they make him feel a sense of protectiveness that you're close.
You're still recovering from days of travel, and sleep has been difficult to come by, but with Messmer by your side, keeping you safe in his bed, it fills you with a sense of longing. "I suppose we should discuss things..." Your throat feels thick, as if you haven't had the chance to speak for so long.
Messmer hushes your worries, "I was a fool to suffer thee to venture forth alone. I ought to have perceived the peril that awaited us all."
You console him as best as you can, reaching to take his much larger hand into yours. "I was stubborn. I moved into their territory, I should be apologising."
The smallest of smiles reaches the corners of his face, his face relaxes, and a huff of laughter comes from him. "I guesseth we're both fools."
"Indeed," you whisper, smiling softly.
Messmer takes the sign to lean across to you, his lips meet yours softly, wishing not to be away from you again. It is when you pull back first, there is something that has emboldened you. "Come with me."
"Where to?"
"Back to the Lands Between-- I can show you what has changed or not. For I am Elden Lord, we can restore these lands to what they once were."
Messmer is silent as he listens to you ramble. You continue, "Though Leyndel is somewhat of a ruin, we can find another castle! There seem to be many that need a Lord-- for instance, the Redmane castle is abandoned. And you can bring-"
"Thee cannot bethink to ruleth the lands if thee art not a God." Messmer counters.
"Not as Gods," you grin, "as men."
"As men?" Messmer murmurs, and he thinks on it for a pause. "T cannot work for thee to restore all alone."
"And why not?"
"Well, upkeeping a castle requires staff, soldiers, cooks. T shall did cost much and more to hire and rebuild." You notice it, he's averting his gaze from you, when he speaks again. "Thee... shalt need a consort also. Is thence aught young lord yond takes thy fancy?"
"Yes," you feel your cheeks bloom with colour, "I have one in mind."
Messmer turns to you with much surprise when he hears this, believing that first of all, why hadn't he been told you had another waiting for you back in the Lands Between, but when he saw the way you looked to him, he just knew. "Be my consort." Were your words and they had been as lovely to hear as the arrival of spring.
"I wisheth to showeth thee something."
It is when the days grow cooler, the days shorter, that Messmer takes you up on your promise. He and his men had decided to uproot their home, their lives, from the Shadow Keep, to follow you back. The men cheered and rejoiced for the idea of their home, and though Messmer was enlightened too, there was something that kept him quiet.
It was on the final day here when he told you about what lay behind the Shadow Keep. The two of you follow the path that goes downwards, "Easy, starlight." Messmer finds comfort in leading you down gently; his snakes intertwine around you.
In the short months since Miquella's defeat, did you realise your month-blood had come late, and a sickness came for only you. Your trousers slowly began to not fit as much, and when you had it confirmed that you were with child, it came as a great surprise to you and Messmer. In the end, the only thing you both promised one another was that your child would know what love meant.
Messmer leads you with such gentleness towards an old sight, ruins of what was once an old village, surrounded by golden leaves, bright and bold. He takes you up to a large tree, whose roots have made its home surrounding a female statue, seemingly forgotten about.
Messmer takes the lead, kneeling before the statue as he leaves some flowers at her feet. "Messmer, who is this woman?" You think it's Marika, but it doesn't seem correct.
"My grandmother." He says softly, and it hits you why this was of such importance to him, that he didn't want to leave behind. "This... this was Marika's village?"
"Aye, the Shaman village," he begins. "Marika bathed the village of her home in gold, knowing full well that there was no one to heal.
What was her prayer? Her wish, her confession? There is no one left to answer, and Marika never returned home again."
"It's beautiful," you correct yourself, "she's beautiful."
Your consort is quiet, taking in the statue, the village ruins, the soft leaves that blow beneath his feet. He sighs, as if he's not so certain he's ready to lose it all. "Messmer, we don't have--we can stay."
"Mine own greatest fear was I wouldst never alloweth another to suffer the same fate as I." The gentle breeze blows through his red locks as he stands to full height. There is a small acceptance to it all, but it is replaced by the far greater smile he gives to you. "But I has't a purpose. I am ready to go home with our babe and with thee."
You can only smile, bold and radiant, which brings new hope to you. Messmer runs a hand lovingly over your still-growing bump. "Let us go home." He announces, and you cannot wait for it.
Home. You weren't sure where it would be, but you had a new purpose.
A/N: Damn, it's over.
I'm happy it's done, but I am shocked it's taken more than a year to get this project finished.
I do hope you like the ending: I didn't want it bittersweet, but I wanted a happy one where Messmer and Tarnished were happy. You can imagine how it can go for them: a child on the way and possibly many more.
Thank you for sticking around for this journey: it was a real treat to write, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!
Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 16
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Summary: Tarnished and Messmer enjoy each other in their honeymoon period.
A/N: I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD AND READY FOR MORE! Thank you all so much for the responses to the last chapter and it brings me such joy that people are interested for more. Onwards!
Warnings for this chapter: hot and heavy sex, all porn no real plot, oral (m & f receiving). doggy style, creampies, orgasm denial.
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Chapter 16
Sunlight peeks through the soft red curtains, pouring warmth into the room. The light catches you across your sleeping face, making you squint and roll away, a soft groan leaving your lips. You do not know how early it is, but you're aware of the chill in the air that has frosted over the windows, and how your skin pebbles from the chill.
You roll over, the rawness of the silks of the sheets against your skin does not hide you from the elements. It is only when you feel something shift in the large bed, a presence beside you nestling in the sheets you share.
Cracking an eye open, you take in the person beside you, his large sleeping form is curled up on himself, his red hair a cascading calming flame. Messmer sleeps soundly, a tranquil look on his face that makes him look more like a god than a living man.
Messmer, he's here, still with you. It wasn't some dream after all.
You take some time just staring at him, watching the way his curved torso rises and falls softly. The serpents have curled around him in sleep, too, resting on the pillows beside their master's head.
Gently, you trace a finger through his red tresses, idly taking in his beauty. Taken aback when he shifts suddenly, the serpents hiss quietly in complaint as they joint momentarily awake, and so does the redhead.
Messmer's golden eye cracks open a fraction, squinting from the sunlight before it adjusts to look across at you. Neither of you say anything for a moment that passes before he rolls onto his back, and a soft look cascades over his features.
"I thought last night was some dream."
"How so?"
Messmer snorts through his nostrils, casting a glance your way, his large fingers finding yours to intertwine. "I had dreamt of this very moment, with thee in mine own sheets." His fingers dance across your skin, skimming over your hips and across your waist, dipping close towards the inner part of your thighs.
"Oh, you were waiting for this?" You tease, rolling over closer to him, enjoying the way his much larger hands pull you closer. Messmer pulls you close so that you are practically sitting on his lap, giving him the perfect view of your bare chest. Your heartbeat picks up, and your nipples pebble from both the chill and his charming gaze.
Memories of last night come to you, the noises and feeling of being taken by him flood your mind, and you find yourself growing shy in front of him. Messmer picks up on this, a quirk in his eyebrow as he grinds himself up from below you. "Getting shy?"
You hum coyly, trying to bite your lip from letting a moan out, feeling his growing cock nudge beneath you. You stare down at him through your eyelashes, boldness growing through you. "I'd like to give you pleasure again."
"Oh?" He hums, intrigued, allowing you the chance to roll off him, his golden eye watching hawkishly, the serpents taking you in.
You pull back the sheets to reveal his bareness, but he is not affected by the chill as you are. His skin feels flush, warm as a growing flame, and you are wholeheartedly drawn to it like a moth. His cock is semi-hard, but long and thick that it impresses you that you could take him. Languidly running your hand along his length, you take your time teasing him, gauging his reactions.
Messmer leans his head back into the pillows beneath him, basking in the new pleasures. "Oh, lover, thy touch is wicked."
His compliment goes straight to your core, the slickness within your legs grows heated, and your mouth salivates at this next step. Leaning over him, you cage his powerful thighs, sitting between them as you stare down his cock, your hand continues to stroke him slowly, feeling the way he twitches in your palm.
His cock grows heavy in your hand, and you love the way it begs for more. The head is weeping precum, and Messmer is softly muttering to himself, enjoying your touches as he awaits your mouth.
You lean over and waste no time trying to get as much of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him as you bob your head up and down. Messmer shuts his eye, a groan escaping his chapped lips as he cradles the back of your head, gauging how much you can take of him as you try to deepthroat him.
"Thy body is not of this world, dearest." He hisses, and you taste the saltiness on your tastebuds. "Rather, a temptress who hast cometh to undo me."
You close your eyes as you get into your element, swiveling your head and continue to take as much of him in you, moaning softly around him as you feel him growing further and furth undone from you. His moans, the softness of his touches, he is close, you can tell-
His cock pops out of your mouth with a loud smack, startling you as you feel hands on you, suddenly flipping you on your hands and knees. You yelp from the abruptness of it all, turning your head to glance back over Messmer, a quirked smile lifting his face, playfulness dancing in his gaze. "Apologies dearest, I can hold back nay longer."
"Wha- Oh!"
Messmer wasted no time in leaning over from behind you, pressing his nose and nuzzling between your parted legs, his mouth finding your entrance. Shaking from bliss, the pleasure shoots through you, and you fall forward into the sheets, arse up and head down. "Oh, fuck, Messmer-"
The redhead presses himself into you further, grabbing you by the hips as he delves his tongue inside, earning the illicit moans to grow louder from you. You feel yourself growing close, but that falls quickly from you, your orgasm denied as Messmer pulls back, his touch leaves you yearning for more. "Messmer-"
"Yes, lover," Messmer kneels over you from behind, grabbing you by the hips, his large cock teasing your entrance as it rubs against your clit deliciously, "let me take thee."
Messmer takes after his title in this moment, for he has truly impaled you. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, the feeling of being speared by his cock is a familiar yet overwhelming feeling. His cock fills you beyond anything once more, and your thighs shudder as you try to hold yourself up, feeling how it feels like he is moulding your insides to fit him perfectly.
Messmer thrusts shallowly inside you, earning the both of you to release your cries, and it feels that Messmer has taken on a much more feral approach to taking you. Thanks to his large height, he easily reaches over to capture your lips as he continues his thrusts, his tongue swirling against yours as you swallow each other's moans.
From behind, Messmer's cock drives almost further and deeper inside you, reaching places that make you see stars. It didn't take long before you could feel your orgasm rising, your voice rising as your slickness helped in making Messmer fuck you deeper and harder.
"Messmer-please, fuck, I'm-"
"Come undone, my starlight," he hissed, helping you draw out your orgasm as his thrusts grew sloppy, hinting at his end.
His noises drew to an end, and his cock stopped thrusting as he emptied himself deep inside you. The cum flooded you greatly before you even had a chance to register how much there was, already some was leaking from your aching hole as he shifted above you.
Catching your breath, Messmer stilled as he pulled you back into him, still inside you and rock hard. It was obvious from leaning back into him and being spooned that he was not done, as if something had awoken inside him to make him obsessed with fucking you. His behaviour was changed too, and the way he kissed the intimate area of your neck, his teeth grazing along your throat.
"Prithee," he whined, thrusting softly as the squelching noises of your mixed cum echoed in the room, "more, I needeth more."
The black knights that guarded just outside Messmer's chambers eyed each other, hearing the obvious moans and bed creaking that echoed down the hallway. Pretending to pay no mind to it, they both stood stoically, sworn to protect their Lord and now, the Tarnished that Messmer had decreed recently.
-
A/N: Once again, thank you for everyone's kind words and compliments. It was so nice to reply to everyone - I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm writing it! I look forward to what is more to come!
Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 19
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Summary: The Tarnished finally meets with her former allies.
A/N: Wow, this has been a hot minute since I've come back to this. The last chapter was published on 7th May. I'm surprised if this is still of interest to anyone. I have published the last two chapters, so you have back-to-back content to read!
Also, happy 1 year to publishing this story; that feels like a record for not having this finished after a whole year. Anyways, onwards!
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Chapter 19
It feels as though an entire lifetime has concluded since you passed through the veil that guarded the entrance to Enir-Ilim; its twisted passages, similar spiralled staircases, having you second-guessing if you had come that way previously.
Enemies litter your path wherever you go; their corpses lie beneath your dusty feet. You lose count of how many are put to your blade, your mind is distracted, anger and acceptance embrace you, and the more you carve through those, you begin to remember that this cause is all about to be fizzled out.
You hug yourself at night when you cannot sleep. Ansbach wanders ahead, scouting, leaving you to fend for your small camp alone. All you can hear are the noises of creatures and beings that stalk nearby. You think about what you will do when this is all over: would you go back to the Roundtable Hold and the lands there? You have concluded that Messmer would simply reject your arrival back at the Shadow Keep, perhaps even hoisting your corpse, burnt for all to see.
After what felt like an eternity of searching, scrambling for fights, leaving a path of bodies behind you, you brace for what comes next. The archway you pass through feels the same as any other before, but this one awaits the person you should've never trusted to begin with.
"Ah, I thought I’d see you here. It’s been quite some time." Needle Knight Leda addresses you; her voice echoes along the sounds of the large room.
"This is where you have been hiding?" You announce, there is a bite in your words, but your strength feels diminished- was this their ploy all along to have you weakened from battle? In a place so endless?
"It was never Kindly Miquella, was it? The Erdtree was leading you all along." Leda says, her words surprise you. To what end? You have always thought you knew what you wanted, but now, it feels so odd to have endless opportunities laid out for you to grab. "So that you might ascend to lordship. Why come to these lands to begin with? I suppose it must be what his Eminence, or perhaps the Erdtree, desired all along? The clashing of the favoured lords, such that one would prevail?"
"Enough," you bark, "this ends now, Lady Leda."
She doesn't answer you right away, only standing there, watching you, as still as stone compared to the fire that rages within you. "So be it. If you insist upon facing Miquella the Kind, then I will run you through, whoever you might be. Don’t tarry now."
A veil passes over you, thick and heavy, and when your eyes adjust, you've been teleported to a room that mirrors the one Leda once stood in front of you in. Though you're not alone. You feel the presence of Ansbach close by, "I am Ansbach of the Pureblood Knights. I stand with blade loft, blood afire. For the dignity of my lord and master, Mohg."
Leda regards Ansbach with more esteem than you. "I can’t fathom your convictions. After knowing Kindly Miquella, what remains to pledge to your Lord of Blood?"
She continues, "Don’t you dare approach Miquella the Kind. Needle Knight Leda, Dryleaf Dane will never allow this."
Upon saying his name, Dryleaf Dane, a silent shadow, appears, though you cannot feel much; the two of you had little to no interactions. You feel lucky there is no Redmane here, for dealing with her now felt like a disaster waiting to happen.
"I am sorry for speaking to you as a compatriot. " Leda stalks around you. "When we stood before the withered arm. By way of apology, I will reveal the marrow of my sword. Its needles that will stitch you into death."
"Yes, let us be done with it then." You sigh, and like the strike of an anvil, you advance first. Ansbach deals with Dane, which makes your life easier. Leda is nimble on her feet like a cat, lean and fast. She deals thrusting attacks with her sword to you, which you manage to roll out of the way or parry, before she calls down a disc of holy light, spinning it as if caught you by your shirt, missing the flesh by a centimetre.
The scorch burns you hot, and you don't have time to recoil. You dice at her as she does at you, managing to get one another's flesh, you with frost, hers with a scorching light. Though you feel heavy on your feet, you cannot help but feel triumphant that you stored your fragments well, strengthening yourself before this fight. It's not a lot, but it gives you extra spirit to continue.
The two of you continue until blood splatters across the ground beneath you, your blood mixing with the dust as you blow a final strike across the back of Leda. The gasp from her is quiet, but it's rattled and soft with her final breaths.
"Kindly Miquella… Make the world… A gentler place..."
You turn, ready to help Ansbach when you see he has done with Dane, his body disappearing like dust in front of you. The man turns to you, and there is a lightness in his tone, relief.
"Righteous Tarnished. That was an astounding battle, to be sure. Now I suppose this leaves only one. But in truth, I cannot calm my quivering. Challenging a god is no small matter."
"It will be one of the ages," you say, "imagine the songs they will sing."
"That is, if we are both alive to share it. " Ansbach answers earnestly. You kick at the dirt beneath you, a confession that had been brewing for so long. You didn't know if you felt ready to confess it to him. "About Lord Mohg... Ansbach, I-"
"Oh, something you want to get off your chest? Well, you needn’t worry. It was you, wasn’t it? Who defeated Lord Mohg." You dread the next words to come from him, whether he will pull forth his weapon to strike you down as he did his enemies. He did not strike you. "Fear not, I bear no grudge against you. His Eminence was felled in an honourable duel, and such are the risks of seeking Lordship. Besides, what right do have I to complain? I blame the enchantment more than anything."
He placed a hand on your shoulder. "Righteous Tarnished. We will have our victory. I swear upon my blood."
You feel a sense of light that flows through you: hope, maybe, but it was a fool's hope- as green as summer.
Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 17
MASTERLIST
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Summary: The conflict of the heart is a heavy burden.
A/N: We're back, baby, and ready for more! See more at the end for my thoughts.
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Chapter 17
The two of you had finally sat in a moment of bliss that morning, breaking your fast and sharing a meal with Messmer. The dishes with peppery and hot, sweet sausages and meats filled your stomach lining, along with sweet bread, fruits, and hot tea. Messmer fed you from his hand slithers of your shared meals, and you did the same, enjoying a moment of peaceful bliss that gave you the chance to be with one another alone.
It gave you a look into what it could be like to be with one another, to share what you could only describe as a dream, living within the Keep with Messmer as if you two were a married couple. The thought made you deeply blush, your mind going to thoughts of marriage and even children-- what would they look like? Would they look similar to Messmer, with his red hair, or would they look like you?
You had to shake those feelings away- there was no way Messmer would want to be your consort, or even be it, married to you. He didn't seem to want to be an Elden lord's consort, but you had never thought of that. If the opportunity arrived for you to become Elden Lord, would he say yes to being by your side?
The two of you continued to resume your days, though you shared them. After finishing your meal, you shared a bath, giggling in glee when Messmer couldn't seem to take his hands off you. You resist the urge to resume the moments from early morning and the previous night.
Messmer dressed as did you, your handmaidens prepared your outfits, but despite looking down at the familiar tunics and trousers, you turned to them, "Are there any dresses?"
This caught Messmer's attention, midway, fastening his cloak before he heard what you had said, something lighting up on his face. Your maidens nodded, moving around you as they pulled different clothes out from the trunk, presenting many different colours and materials. You could sense Messmer's train of gaze on your back, watching as you finally picked one; the crimson silk with golden trim was light enough that you didn't feel that you were dragging so much of it.
Dressed up, you turned to face Messmer, intrigue on your face as you gauged his reaction. He's not meeting your gaze, his eye is staring over your dress, over the lower cut that reveals your collarbones, your cleavage, giving you a tall, graceful look.
And most of all, you're in his colours.
A sense of pride washes over him, maybe even some possession that clutches at his chest. It's only when he feels you take hold of his hand that he brings his attention back to look down on you. You know what this is doing to him, to watch as he tries to keep focused and calm. But all you do is simply smile up at him. "Do you like?"
"Minx," there is a growl in his throat as he possessively holds you to him, leaning down to take your lips in a passionate kiss. He kisses you when the two of you are alone, and though you understand his shyness to not show his pubic displays of affection around others, you'd hope he would grow more comfortable with it, "thou shalt be the death of me."
"I sure hope not." You giggle, his hair tickles your neck when he kisses you there, spinning you around so you're facing a full-length mirror. You fit effortlessly in his arms, with him caging you in them to bring you that security. You wish you could stay like this all day, enjoying these moments when nothing is a worry, and you can feel content in tranquillity.
-
You find him another time in his chambers, having just finished a meeting with his men. His forces talk of increasing their numbers, more soldiers in camps, fire Golems to fill the roads and destroying any part of the land that could be keeping Miquella's allies hidden.
"You're exhausted." You approach him, having watched the last remaining group of his men leave the room, with you and him being the only ones left in the room. "You will not be any good if you're not catching any sleep."
"I doth not slumber." He pinches the bridge of his nose, catching your gaze as you question his words with a quirked smile. He knows it himself it's not true. Looking towards the stone doors, watching as they, he pulls you to him, the second it's just the two of you. You're startled before you recover quickly, finding yourself sitting like a lap dog between his powerful thighs. The warmth he emits has you almost purring happily, whilst your lover pulls you closer to his chest. "Thee art cold."
"Ah, I did not notice." You instinctively reach for him, greedily taking in his heat, absorbing it as you take in the work that surrounds him. You wonder if ever in his life, he had always wanted to be like this, his mother's perfect soldier. Would he have rather been a singer, a mathematician, or a poet? You feel guilty that it is maybe something he has never had the chance to think of, but maybe you could give that to him?
You shake those feelings down, once you remember where you are, suppressing the feelings that maybe, you too, could've lived a different life. You have a hard time remembering who your family were; if you had many or few brothers and sisters, or even the colour of your mother's eyes. One thing you do know: if you had not gone down the route and followed the first Elden Lord, Godfrey, you wouldn't have become a Tarnished.
"Do you ever... wish things could be different?"
"How so, mine own dearest?" He answers softly in your ear.
"That we could live the life we always wanted to, without heartache, grief, or strife. Have you ever thought of that?"
It is the answer Messmer gives that you were expecting him to answer with: "Always." There is a pain you would never be able to know that he experienced, and vice versa, but together, you felt that this bond between two kindred souls had strengthened.
Messmer brought your attention once more. "I has't called for an audience with Sir Ansbach. I has't many things I wish to hear from him."
"Of course," you say, leaning backwards into him, resisting to ask him more, but knowing you could not keep quiet. The yearning, called to you, wishing that there was more. "Will you be here any longer? I do not wish to be alone in bed tonight."
His brief chuckle was reserved, just as he is, but despite it all, your silver tongue never ceased to entertain him. "I shalt not leaveth thee bitter cold in the sheets, starlight."
-
"Miquella's forces lurk near the Ancient Ruins of Rauh, they have eyes all on us."
It is Sir Ansbach who speaks, having designated a meeting within Messmer's war hall. It is another day that has passed before you find yourself speaking with Ansbach, late into the twilight. It is no surprise to any, Messmer surrounds himself with his generals, stuck in meetings day in and day out. Some of Messmer's soldiers stand alongside their lord, with only you and Ansbach as the only two who have insight into Miquella's possible plans. Messmer is seated as the formidable leader at the head of the table, with you on the left side of the table beside him, Ansbach opposite you.
"Lady Leda will be awaiting for opportunity for Messmer's kindling to burn away the sealing tree." Continued Ansbach. "For this to work, I suggest that Lord Messmer and the Tarnished can lead the way and destroy the sealing tree and find her in Enir-Ilim."
"We know she won't be alone," you add, "after having defeated Redmane Freyja, she will have few allies beside her. Dryleaf Dane no doubt, but also an ally in the Hornsent."
"We will have to dispatch Needle Knight Leda first, to shake her allies, and make them retreat if possible," Ansbach turns to Messmer, "My Lord, with your aid beside the Tarnished and I, we will be able to overcome this obstacle."
"Then comes Miquella," you join, "if we can draw him close, we will be able to put an end to his plans. He will have no love, no alliances, just himself out in the open."
It is with this that Messmer has been silent the entire time. He stares only at the map on the table, his eye drifting only to the paper and not acknowledging anyone around him. It takes some time before she finally does something, a palpable, silent dread that looms with all of you awaiting a verdict.
He stands to his full height, turning his back to the group, only to stare out at the flames in the hearth. "Increase the troops outside our gates. And those outside the Tarnished's chambers."
You look briefly over to Ansbach, and back over to Messmer. "Miquella and his apostles know we're here. Don't you think it would be best to meet Miquella head-on? What good can we be if we lock ourselves inside?"
"We shalt be protected." He says coolly, "We has't stone walls, we can await Miquella's troops in mine Keep. Alloweth those to cometh to us."
"But why can't we attack when we know we can bring extra forces to them? To surprise them?" You ask hesitantly.
"T doest not matter to me where we meet, on the fields or inside stone walls, Miquella and his followers shalt know of our strength." There is a dangerous look in his eye, burning as if the temperature of the room is rising. You catch a glimpse that his long fingernails have caused cuts into his palm, just from how hard he has crushed his hand shut.
"We shalt raze their resistance in embers and blood." He says adamantly.
You huff, "We will be ambushed inside our walls, Mes- my Lord. What will become of us?"
You're amazed at how quick he is to decide and stick to something. You called it stubborn willfulness. "My Lord," you go to him with a different route, the softer approach, your tone warmer. You approached him confidently knowing you were his lover, that everyone knew you were his partner. Reaching out to him surprises you with the way he recoils at your touch. "Messmer-" Your voice did not hide your hurt.
"I shall not argue with thee about this, Tarnished." He snaps, and the use of your title hits you like a ton of bricks. Knowing he was stressed was one thing, to hide his affection for you around others so suddenly was another thing. You stepped back from him, a sting burning slowly in your chest, similar to a kindling beginning to burn. Two stubborn, headstrong people, refusing to listen or agree with each other.
Ansbach awkwardly stands between you two, aware of the heated stares and subtle touches from you. "Perhaps we shall come back to this another time, My Lord."
Messmer stares at you now as if he's dealing with an impatient child. "Nay. T'is been finalised and t'is an order."
You're so shocked by this outburst that you're not done with confronting him. Was this a front he was putting up, or perhaps some way to keep you inside these walls, trapped from being hurt or killed by the resistance of his brother?
Stepping out in front of him, blocking his way from escape with your shorter body, you glare up at him, "This is not done yet. Why are you resisting this? We have the advantage."
"Enough-"
"No, this isn't what you would do, Messmer." You're aware you've used his name and not his title. The room feels hotter and smaller, and all eyes are on you both.
"I shalt not hear more of this."
"Why are you so afraid?"
"Because thee art the target." He snaps, and it leaves you speechless. Your head feels dizzy from the room's heat, and no one is daring to speak up. It is only with the heavy, ragged breaths from Messmer, that leave you feeling as if it is just you and him. "What shall thee doth at which hour Miquella cometh for thee? They shalt targeteth thee and only thee. Thee shall beest safe under mine own protection."
You realise what he's doing, and it saddens you to realise it's his way of protecting you, by keeping you here in danger. But you're a Tarnished, stripped of all and born to die and live and repeat the cycle. You knew of that long before you knew Messmer, so why did he wish to keep you locked up?
"I am not some doll you can keep here, Messmer," you try to keep your voice low, steady, but you can feel the tremble in your words, "What will I be if not a fool if I do not face Leda head on?"
"Thee wouldst beest safe," he answers, and you realise now his outburst was hiding something way worse from you. He's petrified. Lost in how he would feel if he had to witness you die again, and maybe for good. You realise it's a way of coping, and though your heart swells to the softness of his pleading, you realise you're not destined for this.
You turn to face Ansbach, who stands unprepared by this conversation. "If I were to face Miquella alone, would I have you as my ally beside me?"
"Always, my Lady," he hesitates to look over towards the redhead, who is seething quietly. "But, if I may, my Lord, will this be of your choosing-"
"T doesn't matt'r what I bethink. The Tarnished is mine own ally, but not one of mine own men, sworn to obeyeth mine own hests. " Messmer says solemnly. He has not looked at anyone in the room, his eye cast to staring off at something in the distance. "Alloweth her doth what as the lady prithee."
You know what comes next. Nodding to Ansbach, you face Messmer again, and ever so alone do you feel. You know he feels the same, but you know that even though you disagree, the yearning in your heart knows it is for the best. Reaching a hand toward him, you await his reaction. Messmer knows what you ask of him: to share his curse of flame to allow you to traverse past and onwards. It is a better option than killing him, but it still stings like betrayal in Messmer's heart, knowing he is sending his Tarnished away.
Without saying a word, he reaches to you, his grip around you is firm and you think he's either about to pull you close or not share his flame with you. Messmer's eye is now located on staring down at you, not in a glare or in frustration, but confusion, hopelessness and even a silent plea to not let you do this.
You cannot be commanded by him, he knows this as the truth, and as the heat radiates through you, brighter and hotter than any flame you've felt before, Messmer gives his blessing.
You brace for the pain immediately, but feel none. Messmer's face is one of calmness, albeit his eye is portraying how he is feeling. It is frantically looking over you, as if wishing to speak for him when the words cannot come. Come back to me, they say. Come home to me safely.
The heat passes it's over with, Messmer removes his hand as you check yourself out to see the blackest of flame you can now produce. Messmer's flame is small, a flickering candle in the palm of your hand, but you know it will be enough to burn.
You give a silent nod to him. Thank you; you try to portray through your eyes; I won't let you down. I will come back to you; before removing yourself from the room. Ansbach follows like a shadow behind you.
You cannot dare to look back on Messmer as the heavy doors shudder to a close, and the faintest of tears can finally fall down your cheek.
Forgive me.
-
A/N: Another sad chapter. Gosh darn, why am I better at writing angst than anything else?
I was heavily inspired by Epic the Musical, especially the song Just a Man. I really dig the animatic that was done by CryInDollHouse for Messmer too and feel it really suits him.
Sorry if the whiplash between Tarnished and Messmer has gone from one to the next, I wish I had written more of their developing romance for one another, but here we are.
We're closing in on this story, and I have many plans on making this as happy as possible, regardless of how it gets there.
I promise that when this does end, the angst will be lifted, and Messmer and Tarnished will know just peace.
Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 18
MASTERLIST
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Summary: The Tarnished takes a perilous journey. Messmer broods in his fortified Keep.
A/N: This chapter will pretty much be the route to Enir-Ilim, as I'm too lazy to write word for word, I'm keeping the details simple, lol. Some things also don't follow in the game, but I think we all know that by now.
Happy reading, folks! This one is long.
A03 link
Chapter 18
As you storm out of Messmer's halls, anger boils within you, telling yourself not to turn back. Your dress is a whirl of crimson and fury, dancing around you the faster you walk, and you're more intent on ripping it to ribbons as you go.
You wish to make a statement to Messmer and the anger he's caused, how he didn't listen for the sake of being stubborn, but most of all, he didn't listen to you, someone you had thought he may have grown affections for.
You could only laugh bitterly: your attempts for love, for friendship, to be one in someone's arms, thrown back in your face. Over and over again. If it told you anything, Messmer was one to keep his feelings close and danced around who he liked and disliked, including you.
Tears gleamed in your vision, blurring your sight, but you still managed to find your way, tearing at your sleeves as you ascended the lift alone, wiping your eyes, knowing you had no one to console you.
You felt like some love-sick girl for falling to like Messmer, for putting your emotions over your mission. He was a demi-god after all, born from Marika's craft. You wiped your eyes, but despite it, the tears kept coming. You wanted to curse out Messmer, his men, the cause you tried to stop, but most of all, you could only curse the one who started it all.
Screw Marika, her golden Order, and her torment from beyond whatever state she now existed in.
The lift groaned to a halt as you sped-walked up to your apartments, ripping your remaining garments off as you dressed simply in trousers, riding boots and a shirt. You could claim your items and armour when you found a site of Grace, but for now, you needed to leave as quickly as possible, without stirring further chaos.
As quick as you are in the room, you are out, wearing your helm that you've long forgotten wearing to shield your face, to hide your tired and worn eyes from his soldiers and Messmer, if you saw him. You do not need to feel those sudden emotions again if you ran into him, for him to see how upset he made you.
No, you would wear your armour with pride, it is a Tarnished's way after all.
Your heart clenches at the coldness when he called you just by Tarnished, nothing else.
Did he only take me to his bed for the thrill of it all? You dismiss it as quickly as you can, running until you find the courtyard.
You dare not even look over your surroundings, summoning Torrent with a whistle from your ring, you climb on and bring him to a full sprint out before he has fully materialised into existence. You cannot make yourself look back, for the tears flow heavily, and you do not wish for any to see you weep.
I am a Tarnished, always and forever. You tell yourself, the heavy gate is opened for you as if it was expected all this time, you head west, only west.
As your figure retreats out of the keep, Messmer watches on from his balcony, his face is guarded by his red flaming hair, but his fist is clenched, scratching into the stone.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
It feels like an eternity until you feel as if Messmer or his men will not follow you; that is when your mind does not feel so conflicted.
You continue west until you come across the ancient ruins of Rauh. Opening the doors, you hop back onto Torrent, striding through and not stopping until you've made it out. The dark, wet abyss is one you're disgusted by, bugs are the next, but you bypass them to continue onwards, until you find the outside world greets you. The fresh air hits you, heavy with moss and decay. You follow your map, heading east for a time until you spot the golden glint of something in the middle of the path.
The cross stands in splendid glory, one for his followers to be in awe of. You, instead, begrudgingly hop off Torrent and approach it. You can feel the pull, a sweet lull of pretend fulfilment that awaits, but instead, you reach past it, plucking from it the Scadutree fragment and trudging over to the site of Grace.
You receive your armour once as you turn your fragments to strength, to help you endure what awaits before you continue onwards, over the long bridge as you traverse across on Torrent. It is not difficult to spot the Giant Fire Golem that travels, and even though it has spotted you, it does not attempt to attack you.
Messmer's doing, I wonder. You scoff as you continue, thinking to yourself if Messmer does have eyes on you.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
You find the ruins past a ridge, another site of Grace, sitting there for some time until day turns to night, and you rest up, eating simply at some dried liver that does not calm your nerves. You pass the time by not sleeping and giving some sweets to Torrent. Your companion is sweet in allowing you to rest your back against his side, talking to him throughout the night, knowing he will not tire himself.
By the site of grace, there's another fragment, one of Miquella's and your stomach clenches in dread. You continue onwards, despite your body wishing to rest until the night's sky turns into brighter colours. You greet the dawn as you pass through the upcoming ruins until the smell of moss and the outside turns to something much too foul that you turn your nose at.
Rot, but not any type of rot, you recognise the red hue and don't dare touch it, its foulness is wretched beyond anything you've seen before in the Lands Between. You've seen it in Caelid, in rivers that ran red, and in Miquella's twin, Malenia, and what it rendered her.
You don't want to imagine what awaits you in this place you're about to walk through: you've only heard the rumours through the wars that Messmer participated in.
You brace yourself for the worst as you had for the elevator, riding it up as you find the final site of Grace awaiting you before you head through the entrance way.
The Church of the Bud, as the map has it named, is what you expect from a place surrounded by rot, but it is indeed a ruin. You step forth, clutching your Nagakiba tightly as you enter, rot and flowers hit you with great nausea. The great columns of the church have been destroyed, its roof a heap and open to the elements; it is clear something or someone had brought it to its knees in ash and brimstone.
The walls are blackened beyond what they once were; what thing had to lurk in these walls to bring this place to such ruin?
Your question was answered by the slick, sickening sound, the scraping of natural hardened armour brought your attention to move out of the way, to witness a horrid blackened scorpion's tail slam into the ground. You rolled, dreading what it would feel like if that went through your armour and into your skin. You didn't think much of it, dodging again to avoid its stinger and the rot that you're being encircled by.
You look up, seeing not just a scorpion's tail, but attached to a centipede, a woman whose body it is combined with. She is both horrifying and beautiful, despite the scarlet rot she's afflicted with, charging towards you, tails sharp and ready to pierce you.
Somberly, you charge forth for the first time, Messmer's flame, a burning bright flame that does not scorch you, but the sight is something that brings the ground to shake and shudder beneath you suddenly. The insectoid lady rears back in horror, halting her approach, a screech coming from her mouth, tails curled up as if you were Messmer's mini version.
"Foul, impure," she hisses, spinning around you, curled like a viper, her body is already lunging at you, "I'll be rid of thee."
You can only sigh, hoping the splitting headache you carry will diminish.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
Cleansing your blade, the nagakiba takes off the rot with ease, scrubbing with some muttered prayers in hopes that the remnants have gone. You don't wish to stay longer in the Church opening, not with rot making you feel so queasy. Despite defeating who you know now was Romina, Saint of the Bud, the reminder of her still lingers, from the soft pink glowing hues to the pink butterflies that still float around you.
The guilt hit you hard when you realised she had been a victim of Messmer's crusade, of his Mother's doing, you remind yourself. He was simply a soldier in her war, and despite telling yourself you're still angry at him, there is a loneliness that has hit you now that you're alone with your thoughts.
You miss his eccentricities, his mannerisms and aloof wit, but he was one you kept coming to, yearning to know more of him, regardless of how much or little he gave to you. You missed the warmth he provided, the serpents that showed what their master was really feeling, wrapping around you in the cold of night.
Cleaning yourself finally of rot on your clothing, you sigh dejectedly, knowing that on the map awaits what is the tree that cuts you from where Miquella is, and most of all, Leda.
"May this drama cease?" You ask into the open air, the stress on your mind has taken a toll on your body, the scrapes and aches in your bones are leaving you wishing you could turn back around, back to the Keep, and back into Messmer's arms. But you didn't want to give him that vindication, that satisfaction from him to tell you, 'I told thee so' in that archaic tone.
No, no matter what, you wouldn't do that, you came so far, you can dread him when this is all over.
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜 𝕶𝖊𝖊𝖕
The rain slashed across his window, a hideous howl slicing through the air. Claps of thunder shake the ground, yet Messmer watches on from the comforts of his war room. He stalks like a gargoyle, ever vigilant of everything and the ins and outs of his Keep. He manages everything accordingly to strict procedure, knowing of the ongoing change of guards, the patrols across the courtyard, the supply runs, and even those relaying information from neighbouring camps.
His soldiers know all; they're his eyes, the ones to tell him of all, not just of Miquella, not of the sightings of his followers, but to keep an eye out for the Tarnished.
He tries to push himself away from this, to keep his mind occupied with his intel, but it's some morbid, curious part of him, silently begging to ask the question when he knows he will always get an answer. He knows where you are, he knows when you take rest and for how long. Last his men heard of you, you had just entered the Church of the Bud, and Messmer recognises the name, his attention has piqued.
The church is at least two days away by riding, and he's silently impressed that you got there so quickly. It would've taken a small band of his men a week's worth of marching to reach there.
He remembers the church well, the stench of the putrefy, the death that could not even be extinguished with his flame. Everything had to die - his mother told him once - it was lightless, unclean, even that Saint-
-"My Lord," the voice beside him was soft, so soft that he hadn't even heard who had entered. The rainfall had drowned out both his thoughts and the outside world, now, he drowned in being alone.
He turned, his healer and friend, Aldwin, had entered with a guard at the door to let him in, shutting it immediately. "My friend." Messmer greets him in hushed tones, resuming to stare out the window.
Aldwin moves slowly, his body is dwarfed in comparison to the jaws of the Keep and of the Lord, but the Nightfolk does not cower in front of Messmer, instead, he stands with knowing he's his equal. "The rain has not ceased all day. They say it will be another night before we see the end of it."
"How doth thee knoweth this?"
"I feel it in my bones." Aldwin gives a wry smile, crooked but reaching his milky eyes. "T'is a gift old age has given me."
Messmer chuffs softly, hiding his amusement, "Thy age hast not dull'd thy wits."
"I dread for that day," Aldwin answers, and though Messmer's attention is drawn to the window, he is aware that Aldwin is here not just to discuss the weather. "What hath brought thee here?"
"My Lord, forgive me for my brazenness, but it has been some time since you last called for me to aid you." The Nightfolk is candid yet straightforward with his wording, but Messmer understands what he means. The dull aches he feels in his muscles, the serpent within... It's dormant, was, before you left.
Now, it gnaws at him like a starved dog with a bone, whispering to him in the back of his mind, cackling like a wight until he feels as if he's losing it. He hears it now stronger than it ever was before, once when he could ignore it, when he was with you-
"Aye," the redhead lies, "T's nothing more than a nuisance to me."
Aldwin is a man who wears his emotions clearly, showing concern for the demigod, "My Lord, your pain ails me, it is my role as your healer to aid you-"
"I am fine," he snaps, but stops himself from truly cracking, recoiling back to softer tones. He finds any excuse quickly. "Forgive me, my friend. The nights grow long, and I findeth I can in nay manner slumber."
"Shall I provide you with a stronger wine, my Lord?"
"I cannot standeth the bitter taste."
"What... what could I provide for you in aid?"
The Tarnished. He wants to say. He wants someone to pluck her out of her silly mission, to bring her back to be in his arms. How foolish he was to let her go so easily. Upon thinking what their master thinks, Eos and Fos release themselves from the confines beneath Messmer's cloak, whispering their words of encouragement to him in his mind.
He almost scoffs when they both suggest going out and finding her.
Sensing his healing aid is not needed, Aldwin slowly shuffles away to the doors. "If you need me, Lord Mes-"
"-Didst I maketh a misprision in letting her go, Aldwin?"
The Nightfolk halts, turning slowly as he had heard the Golden Prince Godwyn had returned from the dead. "Pardon?"
"Thou art mine own oldest friend besides Gaius. I wouldst ask him myself if he were not out patrolling." Messmer turns slowly, thoughtfully, resting against the chair but not sitting. His golden eye peers across to milky coloured ones. "Answer me truthfully."
"My friend, I have known you for a very long time." Aldwin speaks slowly, trying to find the right words, "I am aware, you and the Tarnished had grown... fond of one another. Enjoying each other's presence. Perhaps she has grown in time to regret her decision."
She heads for Enir-Ilim. The next timeth I shall hear from her is if 't be true she cometh to me whole or just her head. He dreads.
He thinks what she could be thinking whilst she is with her thoughts, if she dares, dwells on knowing she misses him just as he does. There is one thing on his mind and it has not left his mind, the very image of her is burnt into his soreseal, and he wishes to be with her once more. For now, he can only hope he gathers the strength, both within himself and for his soldiers and keep.
"Very well." Messmer tries not to show his emotions, but it reads in the way he strokes the coiled side of one of his winged serpents. Aldwin turns to leave before hearing a final request. "The stout wine shalt aid me just fine."
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖉
Morning comes when you feel something kick your boot. Alert yet dazed, you flick the rusty dagger you had gripped in your hand all night towards your supposed attacker, your guard relaxing upon seeing the sight of a familiar face. "You scared the crap out of me."
"Keep your wits about, Lady Tarnished." Ansbach coolly replies, stepping over you, reaching through his belongings idly as you watch quietly. You want to ignore the dream you had been having before you had been harshly awoken: in the silken sheets in the Lord of the Shadow Keep's chambers, snuggly embraced by him. You wanted to dismiss the way his arms felt so real around you, that you had silently hoped it had been real.
Sadly, you had come to remember your whereabouts, sitting just outside the Church of the Bud, steps away from the entrance to Enir-Ilim. You gathered your things, walking side by side with Ansbach as you took in the fortified and imposing sight. It had been something from dreams of another distant land, floating in the air in mightiness, you could not help but marvel.
Between you, hooded, shadowed figures knelt, and when you slowly approached one of them, you could hear the silent yet persistent mutterings that took some time to understand:
"Let us be on our way." Ansbach brought your attention back to what was guarding those out: the blackened, twisted vines, almost as thick as rope.
You stared at it a second longer before realising what you must do, clutching your palms outwards, you uttered. "Here goes nothing."
The flames reached out, reddened flames clutched to the bark that it caught aflame quickly, burning like cloth to the ground in front of you. It didn't take long for the path to be cleared, and when you turned to Ansbach expectantly, he too looked in silent awe.
"Let us go." You spoke first, stepping forth with Ansbach behind. On you both went, knowing it led towards certain doom.
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜 𝕶𝖊𝖊𝖕
The heavy gates groan with life as they lifted open. Rain continues to pour and slash, darkening Messmer's hair and clothing, but he remains somber as he walks solemnly out of his hiding.
His skin had turned frail, the bags under his eyes heavier, but the feeling in his chest had not once settled. Not when he guilt-tripped himself into telling himself his mother wouldn't want it, how Marika would disapprove, for showing weakness for another-- but where was she now but trapped?
In all his years, he wrote to her in correspondence, begging for her return, those centuries passed, and he had heard nought.
No more. He told himself. No more would he sit and wait, waiting for her word.
He had sat and waited, witnessed and watched, but he would finally be a participant.
"My Lord," A voice calls for him, but he chooses to ignore it. The mount brought forth to him is large and formidable, one he used in his conquests many times before; now, he would call upon it again. "My lord, where are you going?" Messmer turns to look down upon his closest ally, Gaius, emerging to stand beside him.
"Shalt I prepare mounts, Lord Messmer?"
"Nay," Messmer answers coolly, " The keep is under thy gaze whilst I am gone."
"My Lord?-"
"I am a fool for letting her go, but I knoweth I cannot keep her to mine own side," he continues, swinging his long leg effortlessly over the beast, a crack of thunder illuminates across the cobbled ground, enlarging his silhouette. He feels giant, a feeling of triumph erupts through his chest, "Mine own purpose hast not been broken, and I has't a tarnished I wilt findeth."
-
A/N: Knew I had to include my gal Romina in this, but I didn't want to include a fight scene. This is a conflict between Messmer and the Tarnished; both are trying to live and do their missions without the other and are failing miserably. Tarnished realises she has to allow people to come and go in her life, whilst Messmer needs to allow people to have input, not just his mother.
But yay, now he's coming for her, but is it to help or to drag her by her ear?
