Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“T-there’s a giant s-snake under the rooftop!”

The servant girls squeaked. They were shaking like leaves in the wind. Fire Knight Elrieh sighed. Last time they reacted the same way to bats. So, Fire Knight Elrieh simply concluded: the girls were exaggerating. Surely, it was just a stray grass snake that somehow was lost in the Specimen Storehouse. But for their (and the poor reptile’s) sake, he nodded and reached the lift. 

There was a little light. The lantern lay near, broken. But that’s alright — he had his own flames, a gift from their commander. At first, he looked around and saw, as he expected, nothing. Even the bats were quiet. 

Darkness covered everything. But he slowly adapted and could distinguish more and more silhouettes. Then darkness stared at him back.

“...”

One of the girls put her hand on her chest, the other gasped — the lift descended. Inside was the knight, alive. They asked if they were right — he didn’t react. Fire Knight Elrieh didn’t move until the girls brought something for him to drink. They grimaced, pulling their noses away when the bottle was uncorked, but the knight greedily started to gulp the drink as if his tongue had not touched any liquid for days. 

“Yes,” he looked through them, taking another sip from the bottle, “a giant snake, indeed.”

_ _ _ 

You had noticed Messmer’s strange habit — he often sat unmovingly, deep in thought, and held his fingers near his eye; your surprise hug attack failed only because his snakes glanced at you and alarmed him about your presence. 

“What troubles you, my love?” you asked, trying to find any clue that could explain his behavior. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to scratch his eye, but Messmer stopped himself in time.

“Worriest not,” the corners of his lips turned up, successfully melting your heart. How can anyone resist his charming smile? Definitely not you. 

“Should we go somewhere else?” you proposed. “Liurnia, perhaps?” 

Messmer was sitting in the castle with you for weeks. He wasn’t in a hurry to walk around Leyndell, but you couldn’t blame him: the Erdtree finally burned down not so long ago. Ashes covered the streets and the view of the golden city wasn’t as breathtaking as before. But everything will be clean again, presentable, as suited for the capital. 

Was he in the city before? Messmer was hard to crack. He didn’t talk about his past, about his time near Marika, but if he visited the capital, if he lived here, — no wonder he didn’t want to see what happened to his former home, once upon a time bathed in rays of gold. Especially with the knowledge that it was you who caused it. All these ruins, all this destruction of a very symbol of his Mother’s rule — it was your fault.

“Thou’rt busy with thy duties,” he shook his head and was absolutely right. “We shalt travel another time.”

You groaned, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. 

But problems don’t solve themselves. You were the Elden Lord of a world deeply broken, in dire need of a strong leader to unite people and give them hope for a better future. However, you, who spent days and nights with Messmer, couldn’t pretend everything was alright. His trouble tickled your mind most unpleasantly. The soreseal, you could swear. Something was amiss, and, as always, everything was tracked back to Marika.

This soreseal was new. He crushed his old one in a vain attempt to defeat you. You will never forget that gruesome moment of Messmer’s realization — his Mother abandoned him; Marika abandoned everyone, placing her Grace into you, a mere Tarnished. What unacceptable mockery it was! 

Finding another soreseal for him wasn’t a problem — surprisingly, they were around. Did Marika know her son would need a replacement? Or did she, trying to hide his secret, make the soreseals common enough so no one could question their true purpose? 

“What’s wrong with your eye, my dear?” you lowered your chin on his shoulder, playing with a string of his hair. It's better to ask him directly and stop dancing around. He frowned.

“It’s healing not as fast as I expected.” 

You patted his head. But his words were a lie — it wasn’t healing at all. The discomfort never left him: he couldn’t even sleep. Sweat covered his forehead, he was pale, paler than ever. Messmer’s breathing was heavy and you rushed in front of him, disoriented, using several healing incantations at the same time.

“It’s not the only seal I have. We can replace it!” 

The minor erdtree incantation soothed his pain, reminding him of times from his childhood when the Golden Order didn’t exist yet, and Marika was not the Queen Eternal, but just Marika — his Mother. Messmer groaned. His body continued rejecting Marika’s soreseal.

“Nay, this one is identical to what I had. It should work. It must work.”

But his insistence didn't matter. The agony haunted him — Messmer continued to endure.  You, on the contrary, couldn't stand his suffering any longer, and just cupped his cheeks in your palms, gently whispering:

“Tell me.”

He mumbled under his breath as if admitting the problem was equivalent to torture: “I’m afraid once the serpent felt freedom, it cannot be chained again.”

Messmer’s words chilled your soul.

“The seal doesn’t work?” It was obvious to you, but you still asked.

“Not anymore, it isn’t enough.”

“Then we should think about other solutions.”

“There’s none. Mother tried everything.”

Messmer’s snakes curled around you. You wondered if this was your curse — to follow the fate Marika chose for you — to lose everyone you loved on the road. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You held his hand tightly. 

“What will happen to you?” you said with your throat dry.

He hesitated to answer. Messmer leaned closer to you, inhaling your warmth, and slowly spoke:

“Dost thou remember our battle?” you nodded: it was hard to forget how two lords, bereft of light, clashed their weapons to prove the same, but yet different, point of view. “I embraced the power of the abyssal serpent,” he averted his gaze from you, ashamed. He was so desperate, that he was ready to surrender into oblivion. “This, I’m afraid, wilt happen soon, permanently,” your dearest prince uttered.

Your head, just like a beehive, was buzzing with the number of questions.

“Will the serpent consume you?”

Rykard’s wretched form flashed in your memories. The heat of the lava, torture chambers, countless bodies he devoured… No, it wasn't Praetor Rykard anymore — it was an abomination, created by the demigod's merging with the serpent. The ghosts of his soldiers begged you: kill that monster, free their master Rykard. Will history repeat itself?

“The serpent and I art the one being,” Messmer stated. “Though it hardly matters, the serpentine nature is always the same.”

A dead sea of silence dissolved your thoughts and you heard a click of a newborn realization.

Messmer seemed like himself during your fight. He wasn’t corrupted and changed by something else. Rykard decided to join the blasphemous serpent. He saw the power, the means to rebel against the Erdtree. But Messmer wasn’t Rykard. Messmer was born like this. 

“Can it overpower your mind? Sense of self?”

He gave you a long look, as if he wanted more than anything that you understood his feelings without any words.

“Nay,” he shifted his attention to his companions, who continued examining you with emerald eyes. They conveyed to him all your emotions, the slightest change in your face. “But my appearance wilt finally match my purpose — a monster.”

It was sharper than any dagger, but you swallowed his words. Objection would start another disagreement. Messmer believed he was a monster. For centuries he played the role of a heartless and ruthless villain. For centuries he built his facade of pure tyranny. Everything was for Marika. But aren’t you, after all the blood you split, a monster of your own kind too? 

Even Marika with all her power and wrath towards other gods failed to separate her son and the curse. She was afraid, she was terrified of the potential disarray that would follow. She is the perfect Goddess, so how the truth about her sin that Messmer carried could be known? It would shatter her image, it would kill people's belief in her sacred mission. She waged wars against everything disgraceful; her son is the very embodiment of unholiness. No wonder she sent him away as far as possible, to protect her position and Messmer’s life from the hatred she created in people’s minds.

But wouldn't freeing the abyssal serpent bring Messmer’s life back to what it was meant to be?

“And… you're not going to die, are you?”

“Nay,” he sighed. “I am not.”

He quietly waited for your answer, like a defendant waiting for a judge's verdict. He’ll understand completely your unwillingness to be in his presence or if you’ll immediately send him away. Messmer knew what it was — the end of your sweet addictive love. The joys of being near you will soon remain only in his memories. You did what no one has done before — you gave him a new purpose and showed him peace outside the cage of sorrow. But he was a fool to think his curse wouldn’t shatter his illusory paradise. After all, even his own Mother turned away from him–

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into your embrace. He could count your heartbeat. 

“Phew, you certainly know how to deliver the news!” you giggled like a corrupted and infected with the Frenzied Flame madman, your eyes were full of tears. Blood circulating in your ears was too loud. “Got me here! I was one step away from a heart attack!” Messmer didn’t move nor reply. You hugged him tighter, choking with your own words. “Cannot say I wouldn’t miss your pretty face. And our bed definitely will be too small,” your sentences stopped being clear because of how fast you tried to speak. “But your physical appearance is just a small price compared to losing you completely! Isn’t your life the most important thing?!”

“What wilt thou do?” he murmured into your chest, and contrasting to your voice, his sounded dark as a graveyard. “Thou cannot just let me roam around.”

“What do you mean?” you blinked. “You'll have your freedom without a question, what else?” 

“Thou art not serious, thou shalt be wary of the consequences!” he moved away from you.

“I know!”

“Then thou shalt act accordingly.”

“But it’s not like you will become the second Lord of Blasphemy!” you raised your voice. “What are you expecting me to say? That I solemnly swear to kill you the moment you’ll change your form?!”

“I'd rather die by your hand.”

Your face fell.

“Messmer…” your insides froze. How dare he say this? You needed a pause to concentrate and forget your anger. What tactic will you choose to break the wall between you two? “As the Elden Lord, I must take care of my people. But it seems you need a reminder — you are one of my people too. And it’s up to me to decide what to do. If I want to, I'll give the order to build a goddamn terrarium for you instead of this castle.” 

“Thou dost not understand,” he concluded. You said the words he didn’t want to hear.

“Yes, I do not understand, Messmer,” you crossed your arms. “How long have you lived with these torments? For centuries? Thousands of years? Don't you want to be free? I think it's a perfect time to end this. Never mind what was best for Marika, she’s not here. Ignore what you think is best for me. Be selfish, be greedy, and choose yourself at least now! And if it means this — just be a snake then.”

He shook his head. To even think about it was pure heresy. The serpent, the very symbol of sin and blasphemy! It cannot be accepted so easily. You shouldn't accept it so easily.

“Let’s remove the seal now before it explodes inside your head. I will do it much more painlessly and carefully than you with your claws,” you looked at his nails, remembering one particular episode of your battle. “Come on! Don’t be afraid!” you sat back on the bed and patted your lap, encouraging him to lay his head. Messmer stepped back from you as if you were a cursed flame. You could read disbelief on his face, shock, and even disgust. 

“Wouldst thou love me if I was a serpent, faithfully?”

“Of course,” you nodded. Why did he ask you something so obvious? Your heart belongs to him only: no golden shrimps with brainwashing powers could steal it. “I love you. You are already my sweetest jelly snake.” Tanith was happy; Tanith knew the truth but didn't stop to love Rykard.

“Thou…” He was too frustrated to speak, so he laughed, darkly, giving you a last glance. “With such a mindset, thou art a true jester,” and then he silently left the bedroom. 

You looked at the closet door, praying that maybe it was an illusion and that this conversation would never happen. You hugged your knees. You are used to pain, but somehow his words made you hurt.

The sheets were especially cold that night. But at one moment, just before the dawn, you thought you felt Messmer’s presence. He ran his long fingers through your hair; he caressed your cheek tenderly. However, in the morning you woke up alone. Maybe, he didn’t return to you in the first place, your imagination created that fantasy. 

And what an awful beginning for a day it was! No pretty princes in your proximity to hug you or give you kisses. Was life even worth it without daily cuddle sessions? You had no appetite to eat your breakfast. You spun the fork in your hand and looked at the empty chair beside you.

“He has no wish to join me?” you asked. The guard slightly bowed.

“Apologies, my Lord. We didn’t find Sir Messmer in the castle.”

You sighed, forcing yourself to swallow a few bites of your meal. But the problem is that you didn’t know where Messmer was hiding this time either.

The guards said the same in the evening: “No one saw Sir Messmer.”

You looked at the city from the balcony. You and Messmer planned to travel the Lands Between together, to show him how much everything had changed since his departure — his accepted banishment — to the Lands of Shadow. You wanted to be near when the sadness would infect his soul to whisper: everything changes, but it’s still the same.

Maybe, he decided to go on the journey without you. Yes, you held onto this thought, nervously discarding the others. Were you upset because of his absence? No, not in the slightest, you only counted the seconds of your separation and asked the guards every hour if your dearest prince had returned. 

After several days of uncertainty, you sent letters to Nepheli in Limgrave and Rya in Volcano Manor, not asking directly about Messmer, but informing them about his potential visit. Oh, Rya was so excited to meet her uncle! But he never arrived at their places.

“Stupid snake boys!” You tore into pieces another demand of the nobles. “And their stupid pretty faces!” You crumpled up the next useless document. Sick from worry, you drank your tea and saw a message from the Shadow Keep. One of the servants wrote you a standard report. You opened the scroll, quickly scanning the message with your eyes. Then you choked on your drink.

“A giant what?!”

Chapter Text

Fire Knight Elrieh wrote to the Elden Lord as their last solution, only because they waited too long for Sir Messmer’s reply. Do their letters reach the capital? Has something happened to Sir Messmer? The strange situation in the Shadow Keep kept everyone on edge, and the unknown tickled the nerves even more. When Fire Knight Elrieh thought about their new ruler, he shivered, and his back itched in the place where she regularly stabbed him. He could still hear her devilish laughter echoing on the floors of the Specimen Storehouse. She was like air — everywhere and extremely difficult to catch, forcing him and other knights to chase after her all over the Shadow Keep. In other words, the first impression of their new Elden Lord was the worst.  

But all of that was water under the bridge now. Miraculously, she and Sir Messmer developed far beyond friendly relationships. Did she bewitch the demigod? After the situation with Miquella was publicly known, Fire Knight Elrieh didn’t exclude that possibility, but he didn’t have any evidence. He could only accept that Sir Messmer had awful taste in women. Even fair Rellana couldn’t win his heart, but Sir Messmer somehow fell for the cheapest tricks from a book “How to Flirt: instructions for Dummies” the Elden Lord used on him. 

Fire Knight Elrieh could complain however he wanted but they all celebrated that the Crusade was finally over. Many took a chance to return with Sir Messmer to the Lands Between, but Fire Knight Elrieh decided to stay and continue his duties. Someone needs to take care of this forsaken place. Queen Marika never answered their prayer; Lord Godfrey and Lord Radagon showed no signs of worry about their sufferings. But their new Elden Lord? She appeared immediately in the golden light of Grace. It was one of her many terrifying sides — she will answer, always. She won’t close her eyes, she won’t ignore any detail. The ruler who’s here, the ruler who cares — what can be scarier for people who were so used to being forgotten? 

The crown on her head and the decorated cape behind her back screamed about her high status. The last time she was here, Fire Knight Elrieh remembers, her armor was old and well-worn, light, giving her a stealth advantage. But now she was like a completely different person. Her eyes shone with fury, but not hot like fire — it was deep and cold like a chasm. She said only one word to them: 

“Where?”

Fire Knight Elrieh swallowed a lump in his throat. He was the oldest and bravest among his fellow knights — everyone expected him to go forward and bow his head.

“I’ll show you the way, my Lord.”

_ _ _

Your steps were loud, informing everyone to stay out of your way. But in the Shadow Keep a living soul was a rare kind. Usually, the half-faded ghosts inhabited the halls.

This ominous and grotesque architecture perfectly fitted into the scorched landscape, covered by the sea of headstones. You hated this place; the Land of Shadow made you feel sick and brought you back to the feeling of doom from your awakening in the Chapel of Anticipation. Death hung in the air along with the stench of burnt bodies.

But the main reason you despised this place was different — everything started here. The Land of Shadow was the beginning of the greatest catastrophe — the tragedy of Marika from the Shaman Village and the birth of Queen Marika the Eternal. It was the foundation of future wars she waged, the Shattering, and your fate to become Elden Lord.

You hated this place. Just why? Why? Why?! Why was that story supposed to happen?! Deep down in your damaged soul you wished to destroy the Land of Shadow to the ground; bury it forever, as if this place never existed. You wanted to bathe this realm in a true death, inevitable and final — Destined Death that once upon a time Marika took away. You wanted to be sure no one would build another Gate of Divinity again; no more another Marika or Miquella, and their twisted, warped vision of what a god and the world should be like.

But everything already happened. History cannot be changed. You were the same as the others — an unlucky victim of circumstances. But who wasn’t hurt by this world?

Melina believed that you are the one who will bring changes, whatever these changes may be. You weren’t Miquella to promise you’ll make this world gentler. But you sincerely will do everything to erase the outdated rules — no more persecution of the Tarnished, Omens, or other graceless unfortunates. And you will begin by proving to Messmer — he has the right to be happy, no matter what he is, what he thinks about himself, or what his Mother wanted.

It was obvious but you didn't believe it until the end: Messmer was hiding in the Shadow Keep. You were sure he wouldn't come back here, not after all those horrible memories of the Crusade he had. The Land of Shadow was his prison, but he knew every corner and crack on the wall.

Navigating the Shadow Keep this time was much easier. Not an intruder but a Lord — no more crazy jumping and running around was required. You noticed the absence of guards on the upper floors. Even the shadows that roamed everywhere disappeared. Old Elrieh trailed behind you but quickly turned back after dismissal. Whatever you would see was better to witness alone. 

The stairs creaked slightly underfoot. The Specimen Storehouse was a majestic sanctuary of knowledge. The enormous exhibits were in the center; collections of volumes filled the shelves. But what remained there was a small, miserable part of ancient culture spared from destruction in Messmer’s flame. Messmer was the one who spared it. And you wished more time to learn the history, almost erased by Marika’s order. The smell of old tomes and the coolness of stone slabs soothed. Before traveling back to Leyndell with Messmer, you had a short date here. You held his hand and a blush covered your cheeks, while Messmer shared the facts he had learned from the ancient scrolls. He sounded so lively and so lovely — you didn’t interrupt even when some topics drowned you in boredom. Your lips curled into a tiny smile and you stepped inside the lift.

Usually, the attic wasn’t entirely dark. But now it seemed that something (someone) blocked the rays of sunshine from the windows. Balancing on the beams was activity with the main rule — never look down, so you looked up instead. Your sole source of light was the small lantern on your belt. It could illuminate only the limited area around you in a gentle orange glow. The ladder to climb up higher was near. You couldn’t shake a feeling that you were like a little mouse handed to a predator on a silver platter. You froze on the spot, waiting. Then you didn’t see but heard the sloppy movement of an enormously huge being in the darkness.

“Messmer?” you called, sad and desperate. Removing the lantern from your belt, you raise it above your head. Something (someone) reacted to your voice. Crimson scales reflected the light.

“My dear, it’s you!” you cried in relief. He could easily be mistaken for an exhibit if he held his breath. The longer you looked, the more you saw: his snake form was much, much bigger than before. The abyssal serpent considerably grew in size without any shackles to stop it. Will Messmer continue growing further, to the point when he will swallow the world as Rykard dreamed? Thankfully, at least your beloved looked healthier than during your battle. The scales covered his entire serpent body, without any wounded skin or red hair sticking out. This time, his transformation was inevitable, but not so brutally forced. The hole instead of his eye was still there: the damage that Marika caused couldn’t ever be healed. He turned his head to the side, so his other eye, red with a vertical pupil, could see you. It wasn’t necessary: he had a lot of smaller red eyes on his body — the serpent’s attempts to recreate what was taken.

“Do you know how worried I was?!” you stepped onto another beam to be closer. “Was it really necessary for you to leave me?” 

Surprisingly, he didn’t lock himself in his chambers. You could barely guess his reason: maybe, the space there was too small and he relocated here, or most likely his transformation started unexpectedly earlier and he failed to reach his haven in time. Or maybe he was just stuck here, too afraid to go down and face the servants in his different form. But it was clear — no one in the Shadow Keep knew about Messmer’s returning.  

A low noise stopped your hand. His head was looming over you.

“Did you just hiss at me?” you asked, bewildered. You made another step and he repeated the sound. “I don’t understand. Are you trying to say something or just hissing?”

You always looked petite. In your armor, with a weapon in your hands — it doesn’t matter. In Messmer’s vision, you always were fragile. Your height is no match for a demigod, nor your power. All you had was a countless practice and a bleeding heart too big for this world. You were like a guiding star for everyone who lost their way ages ago. So how could he not be seduced by your pure love?

Of course, he should have foreseen this; he knew it — you will find him no matter what. No, he hoped you’d come and save him. And here you are, just in front of him. But his mind was filled with regret.

You were delusional. You refused to see the truth.

He is a monster.

And yet you swore to love him. And looked at him like you always did. 

Foolish little Tarnished, your love will cause only destruction. Messmer will not let you ruin your life because of him.

“Ssstay away.”

Your jaw dropped. A mere whisper was clearly Messmer’s voice.

“You speak!” shining enthusiasm was not a reaction Messmer wanted to achieve from you. He realized his mistake — answering gave you more reasons to bother him. “How are you feeling, my sweetest?”

He swayed under your piercing loving gaze as if your attention brought him discomfort, but he said nothing. 

“Don’t you want to find a more suitable place together?”

But he didn’t let you shorten the distance and touch his slippery body: suddenly you lost your balance and clung to the beam with your hands and legs like a frightened cat. His tail almost pushed you off. 

“Hey! Are you trying to kill me?!”

You wanted to cry from his rejection and laugh at his childish attempts to be an evil and scary snake.

He swung his tail again.

“Mer-mer, can we just talk about it? I want to help you!” 

Another hiss was his reply.

“Stop showing me your cute snake tongue! I can hiss back at you, too, you know!”

His tail aimed not at you but the beam: the construction couldn’t withstand that and you heard a dangerous crack of the wood.

“Fine! I give up! You don’t want my company!” the scream of surrender made him pause. You preferred to call it a tactical retreat. The shaking of your hands didn’t stop as you descended the ladder, but not from fear of Messmer, oh no! His snake form didn’t scare you at all. You've seen a lot of horrible, stomach-turning things. Compared to Rykard’s hideous and disgusting appearance, Messmer was the prettiest snake you ever saw.

The nature of your fear was different — your dearest prince knew that the fall couldn’t truly kill you. Grace will always bring you back. But you never told him one thing about yourself: death still terrified you.

You reached the first floor in defeat. What else could you expect? As always, Messmer was stubborn to a fault. But he underestimated your determination — you didn’t plan to give up. And now, knowing his location, you just need to be patient. Luckily for you, patience was your old friend.

Speaking of old: Elrieh clutched the edges of his red robe, waiting for you, but you shook your head.

“I couldn’t solve the problem yet.” You needed a proper plan. “Anyway, he cannot stay there forever without food. Did you bring him something?”

Old Elrieh stared at you, uncertain. Did he drink too much again and couldn’t understand your words?

“No one is missing, my Lord.”

It was your turn to stare.

“No, gods, no! I mean, did you feed– ah, of course not!” you massaged your forehead. It seems you had a lot of work to do.

_ _ _

“She’s been here for six hours,” one of the girls whispered, whipping away dust from the tables.

“A pity we’re too far away to understand her yelling. Does she argue with that thing?” the other servant replied.

“I heard she’s offering it food.”

The Elden Lord’s presence from unsettling quickly became the object of many rumors.

“Should we stop her?” the knight coughed, hearing another scream from the Lord.

“No, let her be,” Fire Knight Elrieh said, checking the time. “If she’s silent for more than ten minutes — we should be worried then.”

_ _ _

“Bad snake!” you yelped, balancing on the beam again. “Very mature! What are you, a baby reptile?!”

Messmer bared his needle-sharp teeth. Different in size, there were too many in his mouth, in several rows. He could bite you in half without trouble. He could pierce your flesh through any metal you wore. The taste of your meat — will it cloud his rationality? Will the abyssal serpent demand to consume more? His attacks stopped being a simple warning to stay back — he seriously tried to get rid of you. But your survivability knew no bounds. It was just like a game with one small addition: one hit would be enough to kill you. He was about to strike again and you pressed your back against the wooden surface.

“You idiot! You’ll starve yourself to death!” Your arguments weren’t enough for him to stop and listen. Instead, he pretended to be a wild mindless animal. He never said another word to you. “I don’t know much about serpent’s diet, but I’m sure every living being needs water!” 

You ordered the servants to prepare all his favorite dishes. The Specimen Storehouse was bathed in the smell of delicious food. In addition, you spent hours collecting rats for him! Maybe he wanted to try a squirrel? Messmer didn’t touch anything. He hasn't eaten since he left you. Panic forced you to act. Messmer is a demigod, this is for sure, but he needed nourishment to live, and unlike his already dead siblings, he doesn’t have a Great Rune to support himself. And what was he thinking? Did he want his corpse to become another exhibit?! Did he wait until the abyssal serpent began to consume his own organism?! You had a feeling it was a way Messmer chose to go. But you held your tongue. You didn't want to say something out of anger that you would regret.

“Come on! Just eat and I’ll leave you alone to brood, I promise!”

Something heavy hit you in the side — you lost your concentration just for a second, but it was all he needed. 

“Mes– Messmer!”   you shouted but it was too late. There was nothing you could grab onto. In your eyes was a reflection of the ceiling and Messmer. You were falling, and falling, and falling… 

You wished to erase that from your memory. The servants rushed to the railing, looking down at the golden dust. Fire Knight Elrieh remained casually standing in place next to the wall.

“My Lord, should you take a break?” he suggested when you were resurrected near the Grace. The servants stepped back from the railing to glance at you with eyes wide open. You didn't answer, silently turning around and quickly walking away. Your cape flowed smoothly behind you. Elrieh thought he saw a tear on your cheek.

Everyone waited with bated breath until your footsteps faded in the distance. One of the servant girls spoke:

“Am I wrong or did she call that snake Messmer...?”

Chapter Text

Annarin loved her job. It was well-paid, her co-workers were mostly adequate and the boss wasn’t demanding. All of the “impaling” stuff was slightly disturbing, but her duty was to clean inside the Shadow Keep, so she rarely saw burned bodies. Annarin liked cleaning and fresh gossip. What did she hate? Bats' shit.

Once a week on Wednesday it was her turn to climb to the top floor. 

“It’s just an architecture design,” the other maids giggled. Annarin shrugged. Yes, the bats were a strange choice, but who was she to judge the taste of her boss? She questioned an unpleasant smell but continued to polish the wood. She finished with the first one and started the second. It moved. It jumped on her face. She screamed.

The other servants laughed. Annarin cried and cried, and wanted to quit the job immediately. It was pure cruelty! She was a young girl who only started her maid career! Instead, she received embarrassment and humiliation! Uncle Elrieh reassured her: the bats were her initiation, like a “welcome to family” sign. All the people here were greeted like that, even him. So Annarin believed him because she heard drunk people usually were too drunk to lie. 

Cleaning bat poop still sucks.

Life in the Shadow Keep wasn’t dull after Tarnished arrived. Anticipation of something new was hanging in the air. Everyone was happy: their mundane time in the dark castle brightened (but not with fire). What was the catalyst of the changes? Annarin was a smart girl, she understood it quickly: “They fell in love!” 

The love story of the tyrant (Annarin never called her boss like that aloud, she had a work ethic) and the hero from faraway lands became the favorite romantic tale. Annarin cleaned in the right place at the right time to witness their meetings and hear the affection in their voices. She kicked Uncle Elrieh in the butt when he said again “Rellana is better”. No one wanted an opinion of the old biased drunkard!

As it turned out, Tarnished was the Elden Lord, who took the boss away to spend their honeymoon. This detail fueled the story: it was almost like a reversed fairytale in which the prince charming saves the princess out of the tower! Well, the boss didn’t need to be saved — he was comfortable in his “tower”, but the Elden Lord was pretty charming with her jokes! 

Unfortunately, all happiness ends sooner or later. It was Wednesday — Annarin sighed and entered the attic with another unfortunate maid. She was ready for bats and their poop, but the place was unusually quiet and dark. Annarin swore she wouldn’t be a scaredy-cat. If it’s just some stupid prank from her co-workers, she won’t hesitate to inform the boss about an unhealthy toxic environment. Then she saw something giant. Annarin felt ashamed of her reaction and couldn’t shake the feeling that what happened next was all her fault. The lantern slipped from her hand. She screamed.

_ _ _

His smell was faint. You buried your face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. The room was the same one you occupied with Messmer in the Shadow Keep. There’s where your love story bloomed: first shared kisses, intimacy, late-night talks, and his shy confessions in your embrace about the life he always dreamed of having. Teleporting between the capital and the Realm of Shadow was exhausting. You had your duties but couldn’t leave Messmer here, even if he wanted to be left in solitude. You didn’t understand his desire to be abandoned. Again.

Making a plan to help him was difficult. Visiting him every day was fruitless. You continued to do it because you knew how bored Messmer was, sitting all day on his spot and looking down on tiny humans. He was often surrounded by loneliness, but that didn't mean it became any less empty and exhausting.

“Hey, pretty thing,” you winked. The perfect smile you practiced in front of the mirror is on your face. He should have no idea how tired you actually were. Otherwise, he’ll continue the silent treatment as an effective strategy. “Did you fall from the sky? Because you look unerthly beautiful.”

He bit off your head. Does that count as a kiss?

As part of your routine, the nearest Grace resurrected you. 

Shaking goosebumps from your skin, you went to your next destination — the Dark Chamber, Messmer’s throne room.

The air there was stiff, heavy, dry, hot. You kneeled, lighting a few candles one by one. You looked up at the main reason you came here.

“It’s all your fucking fault, Marika,” the match broke in half between your fingers. “Are you satisfied?”

If the walls had ears, you would be in big trouble. Messmer would never allow you to badmouth his Mother. Insulting a statue of her was the harmless thing you could do. You wanted to punch the stone with that unbelievably gentle expression on Marika’s face. You wished to smash it with your weapon, to behead her like the other statues around the lands. But Messmer won’t forgive you.

“You destroyed everything,” you growled. “You destroyed everyone, you wretched bitch.”

You pathed around in circles, waving your arms and screaming at the goddess, who’ll never hear you. 

“What did you do to me? Robbed me from my right to rest in peace.”

The broken image of her crumbled body flashed in your memory. You turned your head away from that statue of the loving mother that Marika never was. 

“Was it worth it? To put your godhood in a lowly clown like me? What an original joke you came up with!”

You laughed until you were hoarse. Despite her every crime and sin, Messmer still loved her. You envied that blind devotion and loyalty. Perhaps, all children crave their parents’ love, no matter what. 

“I suppose I should be nicer to my mother-in-law,” you huffed. “And you should be grateful that I care about his life.”

_ _ _

Fire Knight Elrieh loved telling stories to the youngsters. Who else would nourish their green minds and teach them how the world works if not him? He was right here when history was written! 

“Serpentine nature! Aint no shit!” his voice echoed through the old corridor near the Dark Chamber. It was a nice spot to spend his break. “We weren’t blind, ya know! Who wouldn’t see the snakes sticking out of his body?!”

Usually, Fire Knight Elrieh preferred to add some “spice” to his stories, but this one didn’t need any addition. He rubbed his eyes, remembering that day.

“Andreas screamed like crazy about snakes, and then his son — Huw always was a loyal boy, great fella, brave and smart — followed his father’s steps. A painful loss it was, the boy knew the consequences but chose his old man’s side nevertheless. Didn’t want his father to die alone. What we won’t do for our family, eh? The Black Knights under their command didn’t even fully get why the battle started, Andreas yelled about a traitor in the Keep. What a dirty, dirty fight it was! Not every day we brawled against each other!”

Some of the younger knights yawned but let Old Elrieh continue the tale they had heard probably a hundred times.

“We thought Andreas went nuts from the Crusade: who would stay sane after burning down villages for years? Sir Messmer wasn’t in a hurry to calm him — he and Huw were good comrades,” Fire Knight Elrieh continued. “But rebellion is like an infection! You need to cut off the limb that starts to rot!”

For a moment Fire Knight Elrieh was lost in his memories before returning to the main topic of why this story happened. “He didn’t execute the rebels. The Black Knights were sent on the patrols. Only Andreas and his boy were punished — imprisonment till their last days. Sir Messmer bothered to bury them afterward like heroes. I was there, saw their bodies cremated in the boats. But now their words became clear! Who could guess that Sir Messmer is an actual snake!”

Rumors in the Shadow Keep spread like fire. Every servant and soldier knew about the situation. Was it surprising to them? No, not really. It was something very logical, easy to understand. 

“But what are we gonna do? Prepare barricades, because other smartasses will rebel? Life goes on, nobody gives a shit. Queen Marika has forsaken us for eternity.”

Yes, Fire Knight Elrieh told the truth — no one cared. What’s the reason to go against Sir Messmer now? They all were forsaken a long time ago. Right and wrong mixed together.

He blinked, looking around — his listeners left him, returning to their work. Then Fire Knight Elrieh felt the cold steel pressing into his back, to the same sore spot, and his heart skipped a beat.

“What an interesting story you told, Elrieh!” someone stepped from the dark. He recognized that voice immediately, he heard it even in his nightmares. “I love interesting stories. Mind to repeat this one to me again?”

_ _ _

The voices echoed through the corridors. One you recognized — Old Elrieh was speaking. It sounded like he told another story from his youth and you rolled your eyes, continuing walking. But your feet froze just behind the corner. A single word made you hold your breath — “Messmer”. Old Elrieh was talking about your dearest prince and you deemed it important enough to hide near the wall and listen. 

What a fool you are! Rebellion! Of course! How could you forget that? But you didn’t know how bad it was. And it wasn’t just bad, it was catastrophic. 

Captain Huw wasn’t only a subordinate, he was Messmer’s friend. Between them was trust, fondness, faith. Messmer relied on him, and what happened next? Betrayal, bitter and ugly.

Was it Messmer who defeated the rebels? Did he look into Andreas and Huw’s eyes? Did he see hatred and disgust in their gazes? Despite their crime, Messmer didn’t have the heart to take their lives. And you knew the answer why: he believed the abyssal serpent deserved to die with him. Of course, how could he not, if he carried the enemy of the Erdtree inside his body? Of his Mother’s reign? If Andreas and Huw raised not against him but Marika, he wouldn’t hesitate.

You won’t hesitate either, if someone would plan to hurt him. You will paint the walls of the Shadow Keep in red. Messmer will never forgive you, but isn’t love about sacrifices?

Oh.

But you couldn’t stop, not now.

The spear you held was so infamous that even those who never saw the weapon could easily recognize it — Messmer’s spear. Almost twice longer than your height, it was the symbol of his authority in your hands. 

Everyone from the Shadow Keep gathered together, looking at you with unhidden concern. 

“My loyal subjects!” you began, as a lord should. In your time, you have heard many speeches from Lord Godfrey. “I am not deaf to your plead. I will be honest with you. Nothing can be more valuable than trust and truth between ruler and followers. You heard rumors about the snake,” you looked at them, spotting those who could be potential traitors. God, you were turning into Leda. “The situation is under control. I am here to make sure of it. No need to worry, no reason to panic. The serpent stays here. If you are afraid, you can leave this place. The capital will welcome you, or Liurnia, or Limgrave. You can find another master to serve. Hurting him is strictly forbidden,” you paused, “I won’t tolerate insubordination. Disobey my order and,” you gripped Messmer's weapon tighter in your hands, “this spear will find a way through your asses to your throats, is it understandable?” you stared at them till the knights and maids nodded. “Good.”

Your words set the Shadow Keep aflame. It was the missing piece of the puzzle, a confirmation. And your fearsome protection and attention gave them the answer — the serpent is absolutely Sir Messmer. But it wasn’t wildfire that burned everything in its way — it was a gentle flame that gave warmth.

“Ah, it’s just Sir Messmer!” the servants exhaled. Life continued in the Shadow Keep as it always was. You silently walked, hiding behind the corners and listening to the rumors maids were spreading. You waited. You were waiting for the smallest changes in their behavior, for every suspicious move. There was none. Their fear disappeared without a trace. Maybe, Old Elrieh was right. Maybe, you were right — people can accept your dearest prince no matter his appearance or nature.

“Everyone knows about you, my sweetest,” you told Messmer. He turned his head. “No, it wasn’t me, I swear!” This time, you didn’t shorten the distance. You sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about… a lot. I understand you a little bit better now.”

He was still listening.

“Can you see it, darling? People don’t hate you. They don’t have any malicious thoughts about you. Please, let’s end this. Don’t push me away. I love you.”

He was the first to break eye contact, hiding his head between his coils. 

You were a liar: patience never was your friend.

_ _ _

Rya loved her home, Volcano Manor. Despite a lot of… difficulties and secrets, it was a nice place. Too empty to her liking after Tarnished defeated Lord Rykard. Everyone was leaving — Bernahl, that boy from the Hoslow family, even Patches didn’t stick around. And she couldn’t stand that ever-present noise behind the walls, muffled screams of torture. She didn’t want to stay in the company of the man-serpents at all. She was scared, lost without Lady Tanith’s guidance! At the same time, Rya was upset with her “mother’s” lies. But Rya left, too, this time not because Lady Tanith gave her another task, but to find her own adventures. 

How easily the influence of Volcano Manor crumbled! The noble goal Lord Rykard tried to achieve wasn’t enough to unite them. Little did she know back then, that their champion — her champion — would fulfill their dream and burn the Erdtree down. What a majestic, breathtaking view it was. 

Tarnished traveled everywhere; Rya liked listening to her stories. She was proud to hear about the new Elden Lord. After all, Rya was among the first to see the seed of great ambition. Thanks to Tarnished, she could look at her reflection in the mirror without nausea. Only thanks to her did Rya learn the truth about her birth.

“You are still you, Rya,” she spoke to her, and these simple words meant much, much more. 

Eventually, Rya returned to the manor. It wasn’t an order from the Lord but rather a request from a friend to become an official representative, since Lady Tanith couldn’t continue her duties. Lady Tanith didn’t seem to mind (but her mouth was full, so Rya didn’t understand half of her words). Then, something incredible happened — the tale about the Land of Shadow. 

“I knew it!” Rya exclaimed. Suddenly, the existence of her uncle was explaining everything. The snakes, of course! She was dying to meet him but circumstances always were against her. Until, one day, she finally got her chance.

“What is it? Invitation?” she was reading a letter with the Elden Lord's seal on it. “Oh, to the Shadow Keep!” a wide smile spread across her face, baring her fangs. She giggled from excitement. “And to bring that thing with me?” 

There were many valuable things in the manor, but among them was the special one. It was a weapon forged from legends. The Elden Lord didn’t take it with her, but now she needed it again. Rya unlocked the casket to look at the required spear with the most suitable and straightforward name — the Serpent-Hunter was kept inside. 

Chapter Text

Messmer never had problems admitting his fault. Sometimes he could be wrong. And he did not cast aside the possibility that in this situation he overreacted, a little bit. In his defense, Messmer just wanted to protect his beloved. He tried to save her from the monster he could become.

But… He missed her. Every second he was away from her, he wanted nothing more than to go back, directly into her soothing loving embrace. Then Messmer remembered who — what — he was.

His sadness and loneliness didn’t bother him (he struggled to convenience himself). After all, Messmer did it all for her sake. She told him to be selfish, so he selfishly decided: this was the best choice for both of them. 

(“No, Mer-mer! It’s literally the worst choice of all possible!” said the voice in his head that sounded too much like his beloved.)

He sighed. She would never understand! Just look at her silly and naive attempts, at her shiny smile! Messmer could only roll his eye. Eyes? How many did he have now? He felt some of them blinked out of sync.

Of course, he couldn’t let his beloved see him in such a sorry state. Like a coward, he stayed in the darkness.

Don’t look at me!

Messmer wanted to roar. But you were there, and you looked at him, and you didn’t think about running away. It's not like he wouldn’t push you to leave him.

Stay with me, stay with me forever!

He desperately begged, watching your retreating form after he finally succeeded in squishing your determination. Temporary.

Then he patiently waited for your next visit in the darkness, uneasily swallowing his saliva.

Messmer was too nervous to have a second thought about food. But you? When you returned, his insides screamed

Deli cious.

Maybe, he shouldn’t be so stubborn and eat what you lovingly prepared.

Eat her.

He heard another voice, a low hiss with a suggestion. 

Just one small bite. She wouldn’t notice.

(“She’ll notice,” Messmer argued.)

This hiss… Something about it was familiar, like something he knew extremely well. Was it the abyssal serpent? Did it wake up from its slumber to corrupt Messmer’s mind and bend him to its will?

But it was something different. Could it be…?

(“We art not going to eat my love,” he reminded.)

E A THEREATHE RE AT H EREAT HE REATHER E ATHEREATHE RE ATHE R

The voice — no, it was voices — demanded. The puzzle clicked. This tone of spoiled children could belong only to his everlasting companions.

LiCK hEr

Only they could have this kind of hyperfixation on his (their?) lover. 

Messmer should teach them that the urge to eat you isn’t equal to love, at least by human standards. It was your fault — he told you to stop playing favorites or give them extra snacks while he sleeps.

(“I wilt not repeat myself. Behave– ”)

Oh. You already stood here. You said something to him, right? But Messmer was too deep in his mind to register your words. Then you disappear and he sensed the strange smell of bitterness and salt, and… the most painful smell for his heart — your tears.

What happened? Did he upset you? It was expected. Only a monster like him is capable of this.

TASTY.  

Messmer didn't pay attention for just a moment. No, he refused to believe it, they couldn’t possibly—

Urhg. Of course, they did it.

The blood on his tongue didn't belong to him.

_ _ _

Your presence in the Shadow Keep was always noticeable. Usually, Messmer didn’t have any trouble finding you. He was momentarily alarmed when you made your first step inside his castle. He knew from the beginning — you weren’t just an ordinary mortal. Everything about you was special. Unmistakingly, you had all the qualities to be a Lord. The power of the Great Runes streamed in your veins. The blessing of divinity surrounded you. He prayed to his Mother that you would not open the door to his chambers (but she never answered his prayers).  

He didn’t want to confirm his fears about the graceless being, bathed in the golden light he had dreamed about for centuries. O, Marika, didn’t he deserve at least a glimpse of your kindness too?

But now Messmer couldn’t concentrate on finding you — the walls of the Shadow Keep were noisy. And why are all of the servants and soldiers still here? Shouldn’t they flee after learning the truth about their master? On the contrary, they started to act friendlier than before.

“Good morning, Sir!”

“How are you today, Sir Messmer?”

“Would you like to share a meal with the Elden Lord?”

Messmer didn’t understand them. Why stay loyal to him? He couldn’t give them anything: no fame, no fortune, no recognition. He couldn’t give it to them in the past and absolutely cannot now. They still chose to follow him without a question.

Did you use his brother’s crown to brainwash them into not fearing him?

He’ll ponder about it later. He had a more urgent question: where are you hiding from him? He can't live without you!

Messmer waited, ignoring the voices of his companions. You’ll be back. Oh, and there you–

No, it was that young maid, cleaning around. 

There! He clearly heard your–

No, still not you.

He was slowly dying from boredom. You didn’t check on him for two days, five hours, twenty-six minutes and eight seconds. Then he heard it. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound was completely different from his beloved. And it was different from the servants below. It sounded more like paws than human footsteps. It caught his attention. Messmer blinked, trying to understand what he saw. 

What a strange creature! Was it a snake with arms and legs? How… peculiar. It even had a little green cape on its back. It crawled to the top, hesitantly staying on the beam. Should he call his Tarnished to remove this thing?

“Hello!” the creature greeted him cheerfully, without fear but nervousness. It had a slightly hoarse girlish voice. “My name is Zorayas, but you can call me Rya!”

Rya was a familiar name. Messmer believed he heard it before.

“I’m honored to meet you!” she clapped her thin hands. “I always dreamed of learning more about my kin!”

He continued to look. If he doesn't move, will this creature leave him? 

“Oh! I should have introduced myself differently.” But the little thing interpreted his silence in its own way. “I am your niece! The daughter of Praetor Rykard!”

Needles of cold pierced his body. If snakes were able, Mesmer would already be drenched in sweat.

He wouldn’t lie. His first thought was exactly “Is it my fault?”  

Did his curse run in the family? Is he the reason why this girl looks like this?

Rykard… Messmer remembered the young boy, who always terrorized him with questions about snakes. The son of Rellana’s sister and his Moth- Radagon. And Radagon. The boy didn’t give him a break, but Messmer couldn’t tell the Carian prince not to bother him. Rykard was a talented inventor and could achieve everything he wanted if he wasn’t obsessed with his torture devices. What did he call them? Mesmer always winced at that vulgar name. But Rykard was a great help during the early days of the Crusade when Messmer’s name wasn’t yet erased from history. 

His beloved once told him a story about the Temple of Eiglay and a man, who deliberately allowed the serpent to consume him to become one with him in mad attempts to rise against the Erdtree. Messmer could only scoff at this. With Rykard’s attitude, it wasn’t surprising. Rykard was always full of himself, but to create this gross unnatural living being as well?

(“Don’t be rude to Rya!” he could almost hear her scolding again.)

Fine, this weird-

(“Messmer!”)

Ahh. This… cute little snake girl?

(“Passable. Be nice to your niece.”)

Yes, right. His niece, a relative. Probably, the last one alive blood connection.

“Greetingssss.”

He decided to answer simply. 

The creature- Rya. Rya smiled in excitement. Maybe answering her was a mistake.  

The girl wasn’t as annoying as her father. He expected a river of questions about him being… well, him. But it seems the girl was interested in everything else instead.

“What is your favorite color?”

“Do you like turtles?”

“What kind of tea do you prefer?”

It felt like she really tried to get to know her uncle.

Surprisingly, it worked to make him talk about himself.

_ _ _  

Rya loved it here. A new place to explore! She — the proud ex-scout for Lady Tanith — needs to make various maps and find every secret pass out. The Shadow Keep was amazing, just like Tarnished promised! Rya wasn’t an expert in castles: she didn’t know about hidden chambers even in her own home! But the Shadow Keep was unique. She was too shy to walk around in her true form, but when one of the maids saw her like that — nothing bad happened! Isn’t it nice?

But Tarnished (oops! Rya means the Elden Lord) looked restless and distressed. She patted the cool steel of the Serpent-Hunter, but her gaze was locked on the red spear in the room.

The lack of conversation became slightly uncomfortable. Rya coughed to draw attention. The Elden Lord continued mechanically pat the weapon. Rya was awkwardly standing near the wall. It seems the Elden Lord was hypnotized by her own motions. Should Rya hide that spear somewhere?

When Rya touched the Elden Lord’s shoulder, she jerked and blinked, but finally remembered about her guest.

“Hm?” she let out a sound, finally leaving the Serpent Hunter alone.

Rya didn’t want to miss the opportunity and quickly asked:

“When can I meet Uncle Messmer?”

The Elden Lord’s face dropped. Her eyes darted to the sides as if the answer would be written on the walls. But Rya’s gaze was directly on her. Then the Elden Lord inhaled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s a good moment. He is not ready to meet you yet, I’m afraid.”

Well, she should have expected something like that. Still, Rya couldn’t mask her disappointment. Really? She had been waiting for this opportunity for so long! As always, her plans for a happy family reunion crumbled into dust. 

“B-but!” the Elden Lord added. Why did she suddenly start looking so guilty as if she kicked a puppy? “You can try!”

She went to the drawers, looking for something in them, and with a triumphant exclamation, she pulled out one thing.

“Take this. I don’t think he will hurt you, but just in case.”

It looked like a perfume bottle that Lady Tanith used occasionally. 

“Spray it in his face,” the Elden Lord instructed, smiling supportively. 

Rya nodded and sprinted away before the Elden Lord could change her mind. It was silly, she thought, the bottle. How could it protect her? She turned the item over in her hands, examining it. Then she accidentally squeezed the pump — water sprayed into her face. 

…

The experience wasn’t worth it, she decided. She would not use it against her uncle under any circumstances. Rya left the bottle on the windowsill.

_ _ _

Uncle Messmer was so cool! Much cooler than Lord Rykard (please, do not report this to Lady Tanith). Rya planned to ask a list of questions, but she realized too late that she had left her notebook in the room. Mostly, Rya wanted to clarify if some of her likes and dislikes run in the family. It can be genetic, okay?! 

Rya ruined her greeting and the first introduction wasn’t as flawless as she imagined. She should have rehearsed their introduction in front of the mirror longer! But her Uncle kindly ignored her mistakes. 

Time flew by so fast! It seemed they had just started a conversation, but it was already evening, and Rya still wanted to tell so much! Most importantly, she wanted to help the Elden Lord and Uncle Messmer to get along again. She wasn’t deaf to rumors.

Praetor Rykard and Lady Tanith had good relationships (at least, Rya believed in it). Of course, they weren’t the best example: Lord Rykard left everything on Lady Tanith’s shoulders; Lady Tanith was too devoted to his goal. But they were happy together. They showed each other an incredible amount of trust to fulfill their blasphemous plan. Rya may be young and inexperienced in life, but she knows how it is — to be disgusted by her reflection, to hate her existence. She lived through it, she even begged Tarnished Elden Lord to end her life and make a fatal blow! Rya became wiser. She only needs to prove to Uncle Messmer — he can trust the Elden Lord, just like Lord Rykard trusted Lady Tanith. Elden Lord was the most reliable person in the Lands Between! 

She was about to say goodbye. Then Rya decided — it’s now or never. The Elden Lord was brave. Rya should have a little courage too! She kept this plan in mind for months.

“I was so lost when I learned about my origin. But I found the answers. Maybe, this is what you need. As the official representative, I invite you to Volcano Manor! How about I’ll show you my home, Uncle?”

She held her breath and prepared for polite rejection. But, surprisingly, Uncle Messmer agreed.

“I can teleport us right now!” she exclaimed, reaching out and touching his skin.

(“Surely,” Messmer thought, “this girl wilt warn my beloved about it.”)

_ _ _

You waited. Waited. And waited.

Rya didn’t return.

What happened?

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the watch.

He didn't eat her, did he?

Or maybe Messmer upset her and she found a quiet corner to cry.

As the sun began to set and there was still no word from Raya, anxiety was quickly replaced by anger.

That’s it, that’s enough. You’ll go to check on them and gods forbid if someone was hurt physically or emotionally. Leaving both spears in the room, you stomped off to the upper floors. 

“Mer-mer!” you shouted and your voice echoed. “Don’t you think this is too much even for you?! Rya is a good, kind girl! You can hiss at me and bite me however you want, but don’t be rude to–”

Even in the darkness of the night, it was noticeable.

“–Rya.”

The place was empty. 

Messmer disappeared. 

Chapter Text

Ranni's touch was light and cold — she couldn't have it any other way in her doll body. But even if she could, the warm skin wouldn’t suit the Lunar Princess, because this is how her night was: an icy and empty unknown, the fear of which was overshadowed only by a glimmer of hope for a better future.

“Let us go, together,” her soft voice beckoned. “My dear consort, eternal.”

And you followed, into her destined path among the stars. 

But you blinked and instead of a starry sky, you saw an empty eye socket with a serpent writhing at the bottom. Messmer’s lips were pressed together into a thin line. Was it anger or resentment? He grabbed you by the throat with a sharp movement, lifting you off the ground. A pitiful squeak left your mouth before his spear pierced your stomach.

“A lord devoid of light,” his voice trembled. “I wilt not tolerate thee.”

A bubble of despair closed around. You felt imprisoned by invisible threads. You knew what would happen next—your armor would melt, followed by your skin, flesh, bones. You would burn to ashes. Fire has always been the most painful death. You could crave the coolness of Ranni’s dark moon as much as you wanted, but she wasn't here, she couldn’t soothe the pain.

You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth, already feeling the breath of flame.

“My Lord…” you heard his whisper. Suddenly the world turned upside down: the blanket was pulled out from under you.

“My Lord! You can’t just sleep all day!”

You curled up, rolling onto your side. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Marika’s holy tits, Annarin!” you screamed without even glancing at the girl. “Stop bothering people in their beds!”

You looked out the window: it was a sunny day, but the ever-present moon gazed at you.

“Give me five more minutes.”

You yawned but it was hard to fall asleep again. If you'll find something embodied with Saint Trina’s spell… Neverending dreams sounded alluring, indeed. Her withering body still rested at the bottom of the Stone Coffin Fissure. Maybe, this nightmare was her message, a warning. Should you pay her a short visit?

“You are dodging your responsibilities!”

Annarin’s loud voice gave you a headache.

“I can fire you for this behavior.”

“With all due respect,” she opened the windows and let fresh air in. “You don’t have the authority to do that. I’ve checked the rules.”

“Then I’ll speak with someone who can.”

“To do this, you must get out of bed, find Sir Messmer, and talk to him.”

You sighed in defeat. 

Power, elegance, strength, wisdom. These are the words that a leader should be associated with. The crown has its weight, and if you wouldn’t be worthy, it will mercilessly crush you. You tried to fit that description, acting righteously and honorably for everyone, who continued to live in the Lands Between. They had high hopes, they had expectations. But now you were so exhausted, that you didn’t have the energy to lift a finger. Maybe, you've reached your limit. Maybe, it was the last drop. Your face was buried in pillows and you looked miserable, like a kicked puppy. The maids came into the room occasionally, cleaned, brought news, and cast worried glances at you. You should have been steadfast for their sake. But one thing was clear in their eyes — gradually growing disappointment. Well, you were disappointed in yourself too.

The Capital’s nobility wasn’t joyful about your decision to move to the Shadow Keep. They’ve continued to haunt you everywhere. Even Caelid’s dogs didn’t chase you with such fierce. 

“I’ll attend our meeting later,” your tone was dry.

“Of course, I understand the importance of your situation.”

“No, I’ll prepare my propositions with a short delay to gather all the information.”

You were tired of sounding all that capable and smart. Hells, you were never prepared to be a political figure! You’ve barely read a few books about the economy in Raya Lucaria Academy while visiting Rennala! Still, you tried your best. Lord Godfrey was never properly educated, and he was loved and respected! But he was a brute force, a legend of the battlefield that was dismissed when all battles were won. You could complain, but comparing yourself to him was useless. A different time, different circumstances… And now you were running out of excuses. Locking yourself in your room and leaving all guests to the servants sounded like a good solution.

Poor Annarin looked devastated.

You didn’t understand why from all people the girl chose you to be her some kind of role model, someone to admire. You were on an unattainable pedestal in Annarin's eyes, because who else could defeat a God? Who else could unite all the Lands Between and pave the way for a new era? But that admiration was ruthlessly killed.

After all, you were an ordinary person. And ordinary people do this all the time — cry over relationship problems. Annarin didn't want to accept that truth. Even Elden Ring can be mended, but not the relationship of the two idiots?! 

(Please, don’t tell Sir Messmer she called him and his spouse the idiots).

Annarin refused to give up.

She didn’t know how to help either, only quietly muttering again and again:

“I hate my job.”

Annarin knew that sooner or later she’ll say it. But she couldn’t predict it’ll happen so soon.

But, honestly, there were zero words in her work contract about being stuck between the crumbling relationship of a demigod and Elden Lord. She won’t even complain about bats anymore, just stop this drama! She was on the edge to slap your face and scream: “Get your shit together, woman!”

But another voice in her head was much stronger. “Do it for money, Annarin,” it said.

Her smile was grotesque and unnatural. 

“I’m afraid no one knows where the Elden Lord is!”

Of course, it was bullshit. Annarin wished to throw a dusty, dirty rag in the nobles’ faces, who looked at her with disgust and annoyance. They chased her all over the castle while she was trying to do her duties. They dared grab her hand and scream at her, calling her obtuse! Annarin didn’t care about “highly confidential urgent documents that need to be delivered directly to our esteemed Elden Lord.” Her job was to clean.

And the capital’s nobility was the biggest trash.  

You knew it too, so you procrastinated to deal with them for so long. The piles of unread scrolls and reports covered the desk and the floor.

“Love is horrifying, Annarin,” you whispered. The girl froze, obviously interested and waiting for you to continue. “People do countless unforgiving crimes in the name of love. Many ugly things were born from love: anger, jealousy, revenge. They're ready to destroy the world, bathe in the lakes of blood, saying that they didn't have a choice. They're justifying the worst decisions. Am I doing the same?”

“No! You would never, my Lord!” was her immediate answer. But you didn't finish.

“What if I am already too far gone?”

“I don't think bad people even consider whether they are bad. If it's all because of Sir Messmer-”

“Oh, no, I already accepted that he doesn’t love me.”

“WHAT?! My Lord, why did you come to this undeniably wrong conclusion?!”

“If he ever loved me, he doesn’t love me anymore,” you said. “He was right. I am delusional and see things only how I wish them to be.”

“I’m sure it’s not true, my Lord,” Annarin replied confidently. 

“And now he hates me because I've pushed too far.”

“My Lord, you’re exaggerating! Just speak to him heart-to-heart again! What’s the worst that can happen?”

Oh-oh! What a question! You could name a million things that could go wrong.

“He’ll promise me a thousand-year voyage into the chill night and then sacrifice himself to the Dark Moon?”

Well, Annarin didn’t know how to respond to that.

After a pause, she changed the topic.

“Our guests from the mainland expect you to return, my Lord.”

Eh. No, you weren’t ready. 

“Tell them I died. I died from a broken heart.”

Just one more day to rest, please. Annarin rolled her eyes. This was somehow worse.

For a moment, you thought the girl was seriously considering whether she should kill you for real and end this suffering.

“As you say, my Lord.”

_ _ _

Sometimes we discover our new passions in unexpected ways. Annarin had no idea she was that good at organizing funerals. It wasn’t just an ordinary funeral, it was the funeral.

Flowers were in every passage. Sunflowers, erdleaf flowers, bloodroses, altus bloom, ghostflame blooms, grave violets — everything she could find or order quickly. Most flowers were around the coffin. Trina’s deep-purple lilies contrasted with the combination of white marble and shiny gold. But the coffin was empty.

“What are we burying? Our annual budget?” the Fire Knight Elrieh joked. But when he heard the rumors, the bottle he held slipped from his hands and broke. “You told them what?!”

“You don’t understand, Uncle! It was her order!”

To be fair, Annarin didn’t plan to do it at first.

“She’s busy,” the young maid told everyone.

“She will accept you later,” she repeated.

“You must submit a formal application to meet her.”

Another word and she’s going to set the Shadow Keep aflame. Maybe a literal fire hazard would force you to action (or scare away these stupid snobs).

All Annarin needs is to create a solid plan.

“Lock them in the same place and force them to kiss.”

“You are useless, and your ideas are worthless,” she told Uncle Elrieh.

“Youngsters!” he scoffed. “What do you know about love? It’ll work!”

Annarin will never ask him for any advice.  

She picked up her broom and began sweeping. It was only ten minutes before someone disturbed her again.

“Excuse me,” Annarin raised her head at the female voice. The woman didn’t look like one of the nobles; their new tactic was to dress like badlands’ brutes. “I’m looking for the Elden Lord.”

Who isn’t?

“You haven’t heard the news yet?” Annarin thought about all the overworked and underpaid hours and put the most concerned, heartbreaking expression on her face.

“What news?”

“Oh, horrible, grievous news!” the maid sobbed, remembering that the Shadow Keep was the only place where she could have a job. “The Elden Lord died!”

“Is that so? I-”

“What a loss! Our brilliant, magnificent Lord left us so soon!” she wiped her tears with her sleeves. “What will we do without her?”

Annarin continued talking until her tongue hurt and her sentences became illogical ramblings. But when she looked at the woman, she was no longer there.

“Pf, weakling.”

Finally, Annarin returned to sweeping the floor in silence and peace. The next day, she started sending invitations for the funeral.

_ _ _ 

“Don’t judge me,” you spoke into the sky. “Leave me be, stop looking down at my misery.”

The moon was silent.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll do my job, don't scold me.” 

One careless movement sent mountains of unread scrolls tumbling to the floor, next to the piles of unread letters. You continued to look helplessly at the mess.

“You know what? I’m giving up.”

Still, you sat on the floor and started sorting the papers.

“I bet Lord Godfrey didn't do that. Oh, look at this order! Wasn’t Morgott the one ruling the capital? He was supposed to care about these things! I knew all he did was hunt the Tarnished instead of actually being a king!”

You groaned.

“And why can’t I be a Lord of friendship or something? Godwyn was chilling out with dragons!”

A letter with the seal of Vulcano Manor has caught your attention. It was sent to you a few days ago. You hesitated to open it and squirmed your eyes before reading. The handwriting wasn't Rya’s, but you recognized it too — the letter was written by Tanith.

When you finished reading, you couldn’t stop laughing.

“No way! What did he say to her?!”

_ _ _

“Is it true?” servants whispered.

“I heard she always returns from the dead,” nobles gossiped. 

“It looks like a total sneer!”

They wanted to see the body.

“But what if she died and wasn't resurrected as usual?”

“What if she truly died?”

Your death would mean an empty throne. And someone would have to take it.

This is how the new riot began.

The soldiers hurried to block the way to the Elden Lord’s chamber.

“Not again!” the Fire Knight Elrieh screamed. Annarin ran behind. An angry crowd had already appeared in the corridor. They demanded answers. 

Annarin pressed her back against the door. She was the last line of defense. Her disagreements with you didn’t matter. She will remain a faithful servant until the end. But to her horror, the door cracked open. Annarin fell inside. She looked you up and down. You stood in all your glory: polished armor, neatly combed hair, and the crown on your head. You looked back, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you lying on the floor, Annarin?” you asked but immediately shook your head: it wasn’t your business. “No, don’t answer that. You can lie wherever you want.”

You glanced at the others. Why are so many people here? Do they have a secret party or something? 

“But they said you died!” someone shouted. Ah, how cute, they are rebelling.

“My Lord,” Annarin grabbed your feet. “We prepared a funeral for you!”

… a funeral? Your eyes sparkled. You are so easy to bribe!

“Where?! I want to see!”

You awkwardly moved Annarin aside to walk forward. When you stepped out into the hallway, there was a sudden silence. Everyone stared at you in astonishment, not daring to say a word. They stared like they had seen a ghost, but they kneeled and bowed when you passed by. 

Good. They know their places.

You wanted to mess with them a little, to mock and refresh in their mind: to take your place they need to defeat you. You were absent for a while, and is it all they need to disobey you?

The coffin in the main hall and the aroma of flowers gave you a different feeling.

“How beautiful,” you said quietly, gently. “Not even once my deaths were mourned. What a delightful surprise you’ve made!”

Right, it was a surprise! Everyone agreed quickly. No riots, just a celebration of their beloved Lord’s resurrections!

“I have died countless times,” you said, slowly running your hand over the coffin. “I cannot recall all of them, but I remember clearly my first, true death.”

But you were put in a tomb. Did someone say their last goodbye?

“In exile, where I followed the first Elden Lord, I’ve met my end with nothing, but dread, darkness, and a fragile promise: we will return.”

A joke from Queen Marika.

“And here I am today.”

How long ago was it? How many years have passed?

“Even if I’m not as strong as Lord Godfrey, not as perfect as Radagon, you accepted me. I am forever grateful for your trust and your loyalty.”

Are your speeches as inspiring as his?

Annarin rubbed her eyes, trying to stop the tears. Some looked embarrassed. You hid your smirk. If Messmer were here, he would impale all of them on the spot! What a heartbreak would it cause him! You won’t snitch on them, they can relax now. Before disappearing in a golden glow, you nodded to the maids:

“Prepare dinner. Messmer will gladly join the celebration.”

Chapter Text

_ _ _

Lady Tanith was an authoritative woman.

Did you finish eating your husband? you wanted, but thankfully didn't ask.

“What a pleasure to see you aga-”

“Take him away,” she ruthlessly cut your courtesies. Her eyes shone violently behind her mask. No “Greetings” or “How are you, my favorite champion?” 

“Pardon?”

“He isn’t welcome in these walls anymore.”

A pure remorse in her usually calm and even voice told you — Messmer did something and did something badly. You literally killed Tanith’s spouse, and she never was truly angry about that, accepting the circumstances. But now? Even with the mask on her face, she looked like she was about to explode.

You nodded, not wanting to have any conflicts with Vulcano Manor (it always ends badly, history taught you).

Rya, the poor little girl who started this mess, wasn't around. The loyal Crucible Knight, as always, stood near Tanith, tall and imposing. You'll bring it later as the new topic for gossip. Are they a thing now, since Tanith is a widow, you wondered? 

You walked down the familiar halls. Tanith made it clear — you do not need a guide. After all, you've learned the secret passages on your own.

_ _ _

Messmer didn't want to be here. No, he regretted it. This place was full of cultists, and far worse than that — they. Worshipped. Him.

The air here was drier than in his chambers; of course, Messmer was resistant to fire, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed the pool of lava. He forgot that aspect of Volcano Manor, didn’t he?

But the heat was nothing compared to… these creatures. They looked like Rya. Messmer felt sick every time they gathered around him and knelt. He didn’t want to think about how or why they were created. No, just no.

He should have consulted you before accepting the invitation. He wanted you by his side. At least you had more experience communicating with Rya. He didn't know how else to explain to her that he didn't want to be here anymore.

They are disgusting. The Lady of the Manor is the craziest of them all. He misses his room; he misses you. 

He could easily and effortlessly kill all of them, the entire Manor. Burn them all, even with their fire resistance, until their charred bodies would be lying around. The smell of their burned flesh will stay on the walls for years. Nothing can hide or disguise the stench. If Messmer were in his human form, he'd impale the heretics and put them on display for all who haven't learned their lesson yet. In his serpent form, he could devour them, just like their blasphemous Lord Rykard planned to do with the world. What does this mean for him? Add another crime to the endless list.

Honestly, your heart was too merciful. They used your kindness, but their existence threatens your rule. It's fine if you prefer to ignore it. After all, Messmer perfectly understands — you are tired of violence; you are tired of cruelty. That's why Messmer is staying by your side: he will gladly do all the dirty work. He'll eliminate your enemies. He'll make sure nothing is disturbing your peaceful era.

He can be your guardian, your weapon.

“But I have plenty of swords already, I don't need another one. What I need is just my Mer-Mer,” you'd say so sweetly that he wants to vomit rainbows. Of course, even in his fantasies, you'd say something cheesy and romantic.

Why won't you let him do it for you? Messmer just wishes to protect you and your beliefs.  Why don't you let him prove his loyalty the only way he knows how?

If only you were here to explain, direct his thoughts, and give meaning to the existence of something as evil as him again. Don't stop being his saviour, you are his Lord in every right.

And as if some unknown god decided to answer his prayer (not Mother; never Mother), here you are — appeared in front of him in all your glory.

“Vile serpent!” you exclaimed, starting your play. It wasn't about you. It wasn't about him. It is a spectacle. It always is with you. The entertainer, you should tell a story that will capture everybody's mind. He is your first row viewer. You are the lead actress, you are the main heroine. He is your antagonist. Messmer has a bunch of experience playing villains. “I, the last Lord of Elden throne, am here to end your tyranny! You will haunt these halls no longer! With this holy weapon, I–” you waved your hand and stumbled. Nothing appeared.

“I- I,” you tried again, but the delay was already awkward. A tactical comedy insert to lighten the atmosphere. “I can’t believe I forgot to bring it with me! Just wait a moment, darling.”

You thought this play through to the last detail, he won't believe you made such a mistake without a purpose.

“Sssssssure.”

You disappeared in golden light and returned in a few seconds.

“Ah, where did I stop?”

“Holy weapon.”

“Right, thank you! Ahem. With this holy weapon, that perishes all evil,” this time a great sword-spear was in your hold, “I’ll claim my victory over you, the Snake of Abyss!”

You walked forward with wide steps. The cape flapped dramatically behind you.

“With the force of hope and dreams, be ready for your execution!”

You swung your weapon. Messmer closed his eyes, obediently awaiting the blow.

“Boop! All evil has perished.” 

He felt cold metal lightly touch his nose. He blinked, and all of the eyes on his body blinked asynchronously.

“W-what? Don’t look at me like that! It isn’t broken!” you argued. “This is a legendary weapon. When I fought Rykard, there was a whole light show! Anyway, I won! And now you have to obey me, because that's how life works!”

Ah, what a… glorious ending.

“What doth my Lord command me?” he accepted the rules.

“Let’s move our conversation to a different place, shall we? Tanith isn’t happy with you, and I don’t want to strain her patience. What did you do? I mean, she was with Rykard .”

“ I won’t ssssspeak about that woman. Thou failed to tell me about the cult.”

“Huh? I’m sure I mentioned that! Cult, religion — whatever. We are all cultists in our own way,” you continued to make excuses. “It's about choosing a side and sticking to it.”

He sighed.

“Don't be so sad, Mer-Mer! Actually, I was planning to tell you Godfrey's level of inspiring speech to boost your confidence, but decided it would be too dramatic.”

“Too dramatic.”

“And let's be honest: Godfrey was shit at speeches! He could say only a few sentences and their meanings were like “kill everyone boo hoo war!”, maybe I just tended to idealise him…”

Messmer remembered Godfrey as a strong-willed and wild warrior, whom his Mother had chosen to be her noble Lord. He laughed and shared drinks with his soldiers. But Godfrey wasn't flawless. Just like Messmer, he was forced to hide his true violent nature, which couldn't be accepted in the perfect world of Marika.

You often indicated that once you were close to the first Elden Lord. Obviously, not his lover nor friend, but perhaps a member of his army?

“Then I suddenly recalled one thing that actually could help.”

You rummaged in your pockets and pulled out a cloth with a triumphant exclamation.

“Tada! Mimic’s Veil.”

You motioned with your finger for him to lower his head, and standing on tiptoe, placed it. The effect was immediate.

“Oops, don't look, it's not ready.”

You adjusted the veil again.

“Nope, still not it. And… aha!”

When he opened his eyes, he immediately noticed how small he was, the same height as you. He looked at his arms, his strangely accurate fingers. Messmer didn't need a mirror to tell: he looked just like you.

“Well, Mimic's Veil mimics the nearest objects. It belonged to Godrick before. I used it to look like statues or bushes, but he could mimic a woman, I think?”

“Godrick?”

“You know, your great-great-great-whatever nephew? From Godwyn’s lineage?”

The Mimic’s Veil… it was his Mother's invention. She used it to walk among her people incognito, learning about their struggles and lives. Now it was in your possession.

“...And the last thing!” you handed him his spear, which now looked comically long with his (yours) current height. “Not as handsome as your real face, but you almost like your old self!” you winked.

Suddenly, Rya’s voice echoed. Messmer grabbed your hand, but Rya was already too close to disappear undetected. He hid behind your back. Whatever Rya did, Messmer was terrified of her.

“Hello! Are you here for a visit?” she happily ran closer, looking around. “Oh, but where's Uncle? And who is this? She looks just like you!” 

Messmer opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly kicked his leg with yours. His appearance may have been changed, but not his voice.

“Messmer’s a very busy person, has a lot of duties and responsibilities!” you jibber-jabbered . “I'm sorry, an emergency happened and he needed to go.” Rya was visibly saddened. “But he asked to tell you goodbye. And this is… my Mimic Tear? Yes! My Mimic Tear! Remember, I told you it can copy me and aid in battles? Anyway, I'm really sorry, Rya, it was nice to see you, but I also need to return. Bye!”

Your speech was barely understandable. You waved your hand to the girl, preparing to teleport in golden light.

“Wait! Won't you stay for dinner?” she asked, grabbing your cape. “Will Uncle visit again soon?”

“S-sure! If Lady Tanith sends her invitation!”

Messmer visibly relaxed only when you teleported back inside the Shadow Keep. Home, sweet home.

_ _ _ 

Everyone in the Shadow Keep pretended that the Fire Knight with red hair and Messmer's Spear was totally not Lord Messmer. Nope, nuh-uh, just some guy. 

The Mimic’s Veil was finally adjusted, and magic altered, so Messmer could easily change his appearance, almost without standing out from his soldiers.

“Finally, their falling-out is over!” Annarin whipped out dust. “I was more worried about their relationship than about mine!”

“Have you ever been in a relationship, girl?” Uncle Elrieh was surprisingly sober for his day off. “Young people like you only think about money. But when I was your age and met your aunt...”

In fact, Elrieh was proud that the Shadow Keep was not consumed by chaos in the absence of Lord Messmer and the Elden Lord. Now, with their return, life has become the same again.

You had a strange feeling, as if someone was watching you. But opening your eyes meant dealing with problems. You wanted to sleep more.

The bed sagged next to you. Hot breath was above your ear.

“The dramatic speech you prepared, I want to hear it.”

You groaned.

“Can I have my sleep first?”

“No.”

“At least give me a kiss as compensation.”

You waited until warm, dry lips touched your cheek. You doubt whether to tell him.

“Our first meeting wasn't in the Realm of Shadow,” you mumbled, still half-dreaming. “It was on the snowy mountaintops. We waged the war against Fire Giants. But I am not upset you do not remember me. I don't like being called a jester. This word doesn't fully convey what I did, although it comes close to it. But for simplicity, so jester I was—not a joke this time—until Lord Godfrey put a weapon into my hands. "Fight or die," he told me, so I fought for Marika and her rule .”

Messmer held his breath, silently listening to your tale.

You don’t remember why Godfrey chose you. You only remember his thunder-like laugh, and that sound made you happy. But with him around, no one could hide from his wars, not even you. 

The sword seemed incredibly heavy because you had never held a weapon in your hands before. Your teeth chattered from the cold, and the Fire Giants crushed the soldiers like ants. Wait for reinforcement, that was your order, bide the time.

You prayed to Marika to save you. You prayed to her to have mercy. You prayed to give you a quick death. Messmer appeared, impaling the Giants without effort. He didn’t notice your shivering body, but you felt the saving heat of his flames.

“She discarded me after, like a useless jest I was. She discarded everyone and everything that was out of her perfect picture, but in the process, she became imperfect herself, corrupted by the Fingers.”

Perfect Order doesn't exist; it's just an unfulfilled dream. In the new Age, you have no such rules; this is why you, a mere jester, became the Elden Lord. 

“Hate me as much as you want, blame me, curse me, better me than yourself. You think of yourself as a symbol of sin and fear. You will never be completely forgiven for the crusade, but maybe it's finally time to change people's perceptions and show them who you truly are.”

“Not a blasphemous snake or whatever image Rykard made; not a sin; but just Messmer — someone who cares, who has the most loyal heart?”

“The abyssal serpent isn’t your curse, Messmer. It’s a part of you. And I’m so sorry that Marika made you feel like your nature is a burden. The truth is — she was wrong. She did a bad thing. To you and everyone else. Many, many bad things. She wasn’t perfect, her order wasn’t ideal.”

“But guess what? Nothing is perfect, and never will be. We need to accept our imperfections, mistakes, and continue to live.”

Your voice was quiet. In the morning, you didn't remember whether you said everything you wanted, or even what you needed to say. But you fell asleep, feeling his arms wrap around you.

_ _ _

You wish to stay forever in some moments, to stretch seconds into eternity, to freeze time — everything for that fleeting feeling of serenity. Even breathing violates that sacredness. But the sunrays fell through the windows, waking you up and letting you know that a new day had come, full of responsibilities that wanted your attention. Time is moving forward again. The world has shaken off its stagnation, thanks to your merits.

Red snake skin was the first thing you saw. The scales shimmered so beautifully, like rubies. No matter how big your shared bedroom was, it always felt too small, but you suspected that Messmer was deliberately removing the Mimic’s Veil and wrapping himself around you.

He raised his head when he felt your movements.

“Sorry, I have a lot of work to do.”

You ran your fingers over the scales before kissing his nose. But the real challenge was getting out of bed and through the snake’s body to the door.

Sorting the documents began to bring masochistic pleasure, perhaps because they let you know that the world was gradually coming to life, like a clock that had finally received the necessary parts. Not perfect, still not rhythmic, but it worked.

You finished when the sun was already setting over the horizon. Then the orange rays enveloped the palace, and you walked the corridors, giving the last instructions to the knights and maids for the day.

When you opened the bedroom door, you froze in place, your mouth hanging open, because before you was a sight: Messmer sitting on the bed and watching the sky turn pink.

“So this is the true power of the Mimic Veil?”

You haven't seen his real face in so long! Had he finally been able to completely conquer the magic of the Veil? His features were just as sharp, his hair a rich red, not like fire, but like spilled blood. His snake companions had also returned, this time with milky-white scales. 

“The Abyssal Serpent was sated,” he spoke, but his speech still had a snake-like hiss. “It seems I can now fully control the transformation.”

You gasped. This was no illusion of the Mimic’s Veil; this was the real Messmer. You threw yourself into his arms, and nothing felt better. He finally understood what the Abyssal Serpent wanted from him.

“But I have a question. Why did Nepheli of Limgrave send you bouquets with words of sympathy and wishes for a good death?”

“Oh, yes, about that, you missed my funeral.”

“What…?”