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All life he had lied. He lied to escape, he lied to be loved, he lied for placement and power; he lied to lie. It was a way of living; lies are life's almost-anagram.
And for a god with an eternity to spend lies is second nature.
Some of his lies were sharper than any weapons and led to destruction of entire kingdoms. Others were pretty innocent, like when he made a surprised face as Rennala smiled and whispered on his ear that they are waiting for a child. First time Radagon barely could hold his excitement, watching how a small flame inside her was flaring up, and waiting until she figured out what was going on.
Rennala probably wondered why her husband was smiling like an idiot all this time.
He thought Radahn made him prepare for Rykard, but he almost got caught with how often his hands caressed Rennala’s belly.
For a long time, everything was just as he wished it his whole seemingly endless life.
They knew nothing but love and happiness, blessed by the Moon and the Erdtree.
But all things come to an end, especially good things.
Radagon slipped his hand through Renalla’s hair, cherishing the feel of the soft black silk between his fingers. There was something special about her, something almost ethereal in her grace and charm, even though she was a mortal woman. One time he barely escaped the crushing blow of Carian Blade because he couldn’t find a better time to admire her than in the middle of the battle. When she was charging a deadly spell against him, no less.
He smiled for a moment, remembering how they first met, how one day they both fled from the battlefield to end up in hot embraces of each other, how both tried to hide their feelings and not to smile during boring diplomatic meetings.
Radagon glanced out the window at the perfect starry sky. It was so beautiful that he could, if he wanted to, pretend like everything was okay, but he already could see it, he could see the spark of new life inside her just like he could see the moonlight shining gently across Rennala’s face.
A baby girl.
A precious Empyrean, a blessed child of god.
Born in a family of a mortal woman and a young champion of the Golden Order, not even a demigod. That's what people believed.
She would be the end of him.
There would be rumors, there would be questions, there would be scandal, there would be another war, the fall of the Golden Order as the belief that Marika is the one and only god will be shattered to pieces.
It felt like the moment the Greater Will had whispered the dark prophecy for all coming centuries. It promised the end of hope, the end of peace, the death of a current epoch and the pitiful finale of Marika’s reign. Her victory ended in vain as the dawn of a new age was announced, Two Fingers made their choice. Marika thought that the Greater Will wanted her to conquer all land until the horizon, but the truth is that the conquest itself is what the outer god needed. The blood, the suffering, the whirlpool of souls feeding the Erdtree should have never ended.
Of course, it was his own damn fault, Radagon knew. He had lived the life made of lies for so long that he completely embraced his new identity, his fantasy of living like an ordinary man, a loving husband and a proud father. He should have known that it would happen; allowing himself to become so reckless was his fault. He already tested his luck and Marika’s temper with sons more than enough. Luckily for him, so far everyone believed that Radahn’s exceptional talent in magic of the stars was achieved with Rennala’s wise mentorship, his strength was the result of hard training with his father. Same goes for little Rykard, who casted incantations with an ease worthy of skilled men.
Only he could see the faint shine of the Great Runes inside them.
Only he knew the truth.
But it was a dream of a divided soul, just as it had been when he was a Marika’s glorified body double waiting for someone to appreciate him, someone to hold his hand in the cold darkness.
He should have followed the original plan, and listened to Marika about what was proper for a political marriage. It was his duty to keep things at bay, not to... fall in love.
He needed Rennala's soft, gentle light of the moon, no less than she desired his fire.
All Radagon had ever wanted was a family; he had yearned for it in a way that an incomplete being separated into two parts would feel. Being with Rennala, being surrounded by his sons with flaming ginger hair.... that had been making him feel whole and complete. Marika tried to find her salvation in the godhood and endless victories in the glory of her golden eternity, for him the cure from the dreading sense of emptiness, from the lack of self was to find someone who truly loved him.
They were supposed to be happy, they were meant to stay forever, by the promise of the moon and stars.
But fate sometimes was cruel even with the gods. Especially with them.
That little fire Rennala carried… it was a blessing, but it also was a curse.
An Empyrean...is no mere demigod. A new god to forge a new Order.
The end of the age of the Elden Ring, and Queen Marika.
The end of her Eternity.
Marika will never forgive him.
Radagon could already feel her despair from a distance, her anguish. Her pain blossomed in his chest like a rose, piercing his heart with agonizing thorns. He could hear her cursing his name, her shuddering sobs, her nails tearing soft skin with burning anger. He had no right to hate her, and he didn't. He couldn't. Marika had the right to be scared, to feel betrayed by her other half and the outer god she served her whole life. Radagon himself could barely hold himself together. He had felt so guilty, so terribly guilty for making her hurt.
Even when she was angry, when she was petty, when she acted in a manner that was for no goddess... he couldn’t hate her.
Marika didn’t share his sentiments.
She hated him then, for in a better world, in another time, she could have been the mother of Empyrean. It’s all she wished, it’s all she wanted to solidify the power of the Golden Lineage. Marika always wanted more. Marika always wanted the best for herself. Even though Marika would never allow this child to rise into godhood and take her place, she felt embarrassed of her fertility. Sometimes there was the slightest ray of hope — when she became round with the baby, and it was whispered that this would be the true heir she had waited for so long.
But he knew it would not be possible after all the curses she received for her conquests.
A misscariage after misscariage, more soulless bodies to hide in mausoleums, a pair of cursed Omen twins hidden in the dark depth of catacombs, Marika’s luck with children ended on her dearest firstborn. It certainly wasn’t Godfrey’s fault, in his Hoarah Loux times he spread enough of his seed to prove its strength, all women he had ever bred with, birthed roaring little lions, strong and healthy, worthy a place among his warriors.
There were many times when Radagon screamed at night, knowing that far away Marika cried over another breathless baby in her trembling arms.
That little buddying flame Rennala carried made a complete mockery of Marika. A daughter of her sworn enemy and a lesser half. A grim reminder that her rule will soon be ended.
Marika wouldn’t allow this life to be born.
He could already feel her will trying to break him. He could feel Marika digging into the edge of his mind, her grip strong and fuelled by all of her anger, pain and grief. The way he looked at Rennala's defenseless neck made the sinking feeling in Radagon's heart go deeper; he knew it was not his urge to twist fingers around her throat.
It took time for the terror to build up within him.
Radagon took in another shallow breath, feeling Marika possessing him. He curled his fingers in and watched in horror as the nails grew longer, the shape started to change and distort. His hair lost their fire and turned blonde, arms lost muscles, bones strated to break.
Radagon pulled himself up from the bed, barely feeling his legs. He breathed hard, even though he wasn’t sure that his lungs were still his.
A pain sting into Radagon's throat as the sudden blade near his neck sliced the skin. The burning of Marika’s spell and his magic intensified and it was now like a dreadful fire was fighting a deadly ice inside of him. His blood, his body, his mind were melting… It was pain more lasting, more brutal, than anything he had ever experienced in a long time. It felt like Marika didn’t try just take him under her control, but tear up him from inside. He scratched his nails against the marble floor and he could see it, the way his nails break under the pressure, the white and pink of his bleeding flesh, the frightening reflection of his altering face in the polished cold stone.
Marika’s anger, her hatred, her envy, and the hurricane of all her emotions fuelled him, replacing his own. She wanted to burn all his love, his affection and tenderness, erase his memories… erase him.
And yet he tried not scream, feeling the salt and copper on his… or her tongue. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, the fingers twitched under Marika’s command, the ghostly blade pointing at his wife.
Coughing blood, Radagon let his hand drop, his dagger disappearing in a spark of blue magic. Such an easy motion that now felt almost impossible.
And then it was all gone.
He watched blankly for only a few moments, his sensibility returning to him as tides of pain and agony washed away from him and turned into muffled sobs. His chest was tight and it was hard to breathe, but Radagon finally became himself again. Someone far away took care of Marika.
Thank you, Godfrey.
He stared at the pool of his own blood before him, realizing that it could’ve been Rennala’s blood. Blood on his hands, on the ground, on his eyes. One mistake and he would now howl like a dying animal over her dead body and the fading flame of his unborn daughter.
He slowly brushed the mess away from his face, enough to look at Renalla. She looked so innocent, so peaceful, chest rising slowly in her sleep. She smelled of lilies, something faint and fragile, and he wanted to stay with her forever.
But he can’t.
Marika would certainly break him again. She would never allow him to have something that she can’t.
Radagon gently traced his fingers over Rennala's face, tying together pieces of dignity. It was hard to look at her without feeling the need to cry. Without waking up she moved her hand over his, comforting and warm and everything he needed, against his own skin. There was always something there, something between them that did not need words, that made them closer than he could feel with his actual other half.
Soon it will be forever lost.
He will never hug his daughter.
She will never call him a father.
He had sworn to protect Rennala, to never allow any harm to happen to her and their children. He had promised under the stars, even though she laughed and told him that she could protect herself better than any man.
If only she knew the real scope of the things.
But now to cover up his old lies, he needed to lie again.
No, not just a lie wouldn’t be enough.
Betrayal.
Not that he had much of a choice.
The old always fades, the new always blossoms. This fundamental law of nature was true even for gods, no matter how hard Marika tried to fight it. He put a blind eye when she removed the Rune of Death from the Elden Ring, he tried don’t remind her that the age of the Erdtree’s abundance ended and since then it was a mere object of faith. He stood by Marika’s side in each war she waged, without ever questioning her reasonings nor her bloodthirst. He didn’t say a word when she twisted the ways of the Golden Order turning it a warped shadow of itself.
Everything was his fault.
If he hadn’t been so hesitant, if he hadn’t been trying for so long to ignore his godhood, if he hadn’t been blinded by his compassion to Marika…If he didn’t expect that Marika still has some common sense left…
Radagon silently promised her whatever she wanted to keep Rennala and his children safe, even though he understood that the promise alone wouldn’t be enough… Deep inside he already suspected what she would ask.
Let this little Empyrean be his ruin… and hers.
***
It seemed that it had been snowing hard at night. When Ranni woke up there were snowdrifts everywhere.
It quickly melted though.
Outcast days of winter are best for gathering of friends and family, drinking tea and watching the fireplace. But she didn’t see her mom for a week and her brothers stayed in Leyndell with…
Nevermind.
Caria Manor became more and more empty every day as more people left it. Soldiers and guards abandoned their posts, sorcerers packed scrolls, books and crystals, cursing the royal family, servants and peasants fled away. The wind was howling in the deserted corridors, the dust and snow settled on the flowers of dying gardens, the warmth and sun forgot about the existence of that place a long time ago.
Everything was black, gray and dirty white, the colors of quite emptiness and withering life. She stared through the broken glass of the unwashed window in the mist searching for a familiar silhouette of her mother.
Ranni tried not to look at the golden branches of the Erdtree. That damn thing took everything from her and mom.
At least she had her puppy Blaidd, who was now squealing cutely in a nearby bed.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad that soon she will be left alone with her Shadow in the silent castle. She was tired of pitiful smiles, fake kindness and unwanted attention. Stepchild demigod, what a joke. Empyrean even, as the Greater Will was so pleased with that good for nothing man, who had broken a sacred vow to his Queen, that he extended his blessing to the previous kids.
Something about it bothered Ranni, she couldn't know exactly what, but sometimes she felt like she missed some piece of the pazzle.
Perhaps, she was just fooling herself and tried to avoid the painful truth. She was the child that was regarded as useless, who would never amount to anything. She was the child who had broken the family. Ranni didn’t want to believe that everything was her fault, it couldn’t true, but…
But why didn't mom return home yet? What if she is disappointed in Ranni too?
Well, last time they had a little fight.
Her foolish brothers wore their red mains with pride, but Ranni cut her hair short and dyed them to hide the ugly color. Sometimes she dreamed of another body that would not share a drop of blood with her unfortunate parent. She wished for a face that wouldn’t remind mom of his features and make her cry as she was stroking her face gently and asking where her beautiful braids had gone.
Right into the trash.
A high-pitched tiny howl of Blaidd who was certainly hunting some fat and tasty rabbits in his sleep broke into Ranni’s grim thoughts. She smiled and gently fluffed the fur of her only friend.
Everything will be okay. Everything will be alright. Mom just needed some time to grief and collect herself. Her moonlight wasn’t truly gone, she will recover soon, her noble and wise Carian Queen, mysterious and wondrous. Once again they will laugh and play in the cherry orchards on the East side of the Manor, make fun of Blaidd with frost spells, feed Radahn’s shy horse delicious apples and laugh at that awkward oddball Rykard.
Right?
Ranni frowned. She knew it was a lie too, and you can’t build your life believing in your self-deception, no matter how sweet it is. Even a small child understands it.
In truth, her mom most likely spent the entire day clutching on an amber egg with the Great Rune, many people guessed it was Ranni’s stillborn sibling. She had been like this for weeks, for months, never responding for Ranni’s questions nor for the cries and touches, she just sat in the library and sang for her sweetings. Her “week” before coming back lasted years without any sensible reply.
It wasn't fair that her mom ended like this. None of this was right.
She had to do something about it.
She will make gods pay and crush their eternity of gold.