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“Gah- Ah,”
The tarnished, as if to mock the legend of flames, stood proudly above him; with his weapon pointed downward towards Messmer, ready for the final strike, once and for all sealing their prophecy of lordship.
He followed the roads, the soldiers all the way to the darkened castle. And now, with the last standing relative of the grace; he could begin his reign. For only him could be Elden Lord.
“To fall- to such a- an indictment upon light; a curse to smother beneath mine own heel,” Messmer gritted out, blood falling off in rhythm off his temple and with teeth bared spat red at the man. His vision blurred, trying not to groan; he focused- the figure in front of him was too shaky for his liking, black dots entered his view.
His opponent said nothing, with a calm but eerie facade, the tarnished raised his sword above Messmer. It shined against the rising fire cascading the surrounding walls.
He couldn't believe it- to die by such indecent hands?
Despicable, what would his family think,
His followers,
His mother?
“O mother,” head tilted down, he could no longer hold the strong appearance, the pain numbed his senses.
His eyes burned, cuts lay waste to his body and his hands- were covered in blood and ash.
The maroon stains were dry, flaking off with each nervous twitch of the man's limb and his nails scratched at his knuckles in shame.
The silence of the room, it pissed him off to no end. For the tarnish to have such a stance- such ground before him, it boiled his blood, flamed his knuckles once more and made him bite down with such a pressure that made the bones in his teeth click and grind.
“Do it,” Messmer urged, red brows furrowed.
“Or is thou such a coward, thy won’t serve me deliverance?”
The blade began its descent, and Messmer couldn't physically shut his eyes. Memories upon memories graced his presence.
And it all involved his wife; his beloved.
Her laugh, the way she kissed him, smiled at him.
She was so, so proud of him, even through all the bodies that lay wasted upon the fields; she stayed upon his altar.
“I'm sorry, my love.” With those final words, his form could now relax and with a wobbling lip, smiled. The smell of Erdflowers and apples comforted his last moments as the blade grew closer.
“Stop! Please!”
A voice so delicate, so desperate drew the man from his displayed remorse.
“Wife?” He all but whispered. It wasn’t possible. It couldn't be real.
And yet there she stood, just beside the pushed open stone hinges- panting and wobbling toward the pair.
“Stop, please, I beg of you!” Tripping over a fallen piece of debris she cried out. Messmer couldn't help but jolt towards her in response; only to be stopped by a blade to the neck.
The girl's eyes widened, still laying on her chest adrenaline began to rush through her bones, shaky arms lifted her upper form yet her bottom half lay sprawled out. Too afraid of the sword running across her husband's skin, distance was kept between them.
However, the flames held no patience; they burnt the wooden beams around the ceiling, every second that passed meant that more instability entered the chambers. Suddenly, a large pillar fell atop the girl, she screamed out from underneath it and Messmer shuddered. Racked with fear he pushed against the blade, looking- wanting to see if her form laid whole.
It had.
She stared back at his yellow iris with blood dripping down the middle of her forehead.
The walls began to crack under such heat, paintings lay melted upon the ground and more objects fell upon the vicinity with a startling bang.
Her eyes, how they shined with such a deep remorse- a sadness that Messmer wished he could pluck out. His hands shook, just how was he supposed to protect his wife in such a state of disarray?
The tarnished so called, “Lord,” did nothing but glance at the woman and her pitiful state.
He felt the need to cut- maim such a pathetic sort in his presence. So with a kick to Messmer’s chest, he acted upon such intrusive thoughts.
The air plummeted out of the knight's throat, landing on his back he did nothing but cough out the ash that had landed in his windpipe. From the corner of his eye, he saw the movement and how the tarnished gripped onto his sword.
“No,” with every fiber of his being he lifted his figure, it was hunched and bloodied, but it stood afoot. His eyes, crazed and desperate, looked towards his cowering wife.
“Halt!” Ignoring the knight's pleas, the intruder quickened his pace. The girl tried to wiggle out from the object atop of her. It burned the back of her skin and she yelled out in fear.
He had to act.
Go.
GO
GO!
“Mmph!” Finally free, his wife leaned back and tried crawling anywhere away from the approaching mongrel feasting upon her delicacy.
But, it was too late.
For the lord had gripped her hair and pulled back with all the might he could. Her feet scraped against the ground until she hung up like a rag doll, clinging desperately onto the man's dirtied glove.
She cried out, tears littered pinkened cheeks as wails left her throat unconsciously.
With his back to Messmer he had to be quick.
It would be clean; one slice.
The blade struck against her throat, creating a line of blood that reached down to her ruined dress.
For it would have been deeper, if nobody had slammed against his backside.
“Augh-”
“How dare you,”
Long fingers found their way against the tarnished neck.
“Touch my wife, with your graceless, vile hands.”
Desperate for air the man kicked- wriggled under the tall flame.
It wasn’t enough- for the knight was fueled with fire and anger; only to be snuffed out by the revenge he sought.
His wife did nothing but push her back against the farthest corner, sobs racked her body and the tears flowed freely.
She didn't hear the plethora of curses,
The kicking of the crazed lord,
Or the stillness that came after.
Everything went quiet. Only smoke clouded her vision and it began assaulting her throat most viciously. Coughing she looked, she needed proof of her husband, she wouldn't leave without it. Blinking she tried to push past the itching of her face- ash fell atop it gracefully as her nails itched without care upon her features.
“Mess-” a dry cough
“Mess-mer!” With such a scratchy tone, there was no way to hear her over the roaring of the flames.
For once, she crumpled. Did nothing but lay wilted against the floorboards as grief seeped into her bones like a plague.
Eyelids heavy, they sagged against the itchy smoke filled air. She couldn’t find the energy to leave the chambers.
Finally allowing her lids to fall; she waited. For death to come and pluck her away, away from the smoke and bodies.
Warm fingers touched her cheeks, the tips reached to her ears and her eyes jostled open.
It was him, her darling husband covered in fresh blood, with blackened ash clinging onto his frame. His snakes not upon his form, only ripped pieces of armor littered with maroon stains.
Grunting the man pushed forward, with everything he had left he began to lift the withered girl.
She tried to cry out in joy, cheer on her husband for such a monstrosity of a fight- but the tears ran thick. They wouldn't stop leaking out and falling atop her husband's hair and face.
Bursting through the doors, Messmer leaned against the wall as he descended down the walkway.
His wife whimpered out incessant worries, nabbing at his face as the man tried his best to find the way out of such a destroyed place.
“Wife- Ah, please,”
Her lips wobbled as the man continued his trek, never once did her eyes strain from his bloodied form.
Her hands gripped onto his shoulders, his face, neck- anything she could touch- she did.
Finally bursting through the last set of doors, Messmer collapsed, his knees skidded against the floor as he held his wife up against him.
She crumpled with the knight, leaned right into his form with a tight embrace.
“You- Are you hurt?”
He felt her head shift back and forth.
“Thou is- ah, sure?”
Another shift.
His palms rested on her back, soothingly trying to comfort the sniveling woman.
She jolted back, and Messmer would have been relieved to see her if not for the harsh slap that accompanied her features.
“You fool!” She bellowed.
“You- you ingrate, you nobody! You swore to be the strongest- to protect the order-
“I swore to protect you, darling- stop this,”
A single hand rose to capture her violent fists.
“Thou is fine, the order is fine. That pretender? He lays in the flames of the past, my love-
“Don’t ‘my love me!’ You could have died Messmer, and what then? Am I just supposed to forget you-us?!”
“Don't be foolish.”
No longer interested in such a conversation the man leaned back, he groaned out in pain as his bones once more lit aflame with agony.
His eyes were on hers, and with the other hand, captured her jaw.
“Thou remains safe, that's all that matters.”
She was too tired to argue- after such an event she was grateful to have her husband alive and well, but the fear had been replaced with anger.
Remorse hit her like a bolt of lightning.
“I'm sorry.” She whispered.
“I thought you died.”
He smiled lightly upon the girl- ever infatuated with the love she held for the man.
“Mmm,” He hummed.
“That’s alright, dear wife.”
Without hesitation she leaned in, her bloodied forehead molded against his.
He could do nothing but stare with half lidded eyes- fighting the sleep off with only her image.
Noticing the blank expression upon him she laughed, it was rough and exhausted.
“Sleep, my husband. I will watch over thee, hm?”
Nothing more needed to be said, securing his head against the stone support behind him, sleep took over the lanky man.
His wife sighed and with an adoring smile, kissed upon his stained lips.
It was her time to watch over and protect.
Nothing would get between her and the knight snoring tiredly against her body.