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In every single story Laure had been told about the Chosen One, he always killed the villain at the end. Sometimes the monster was the Malaise itself, sometimes it was a mere creature corrupted by it. The Chosen One killed the monster; that was what made him a hero.
Of course, the real Chosen One was a lot more pompous and self-centered than one would expect, but he had the skills to back it up and seemed on board to kill the king, so she had just accepted it as a necessary sacrifice to make. Laure would put up with a thousand Chosen Ones if it meant that the Malaise was gone. It would have in no way managed to reverse the many years of suffering that the people and land had endured, but it was a massive step forwards in a peaceful direction. As time went on he began to express a softer side of himself to Laure, and although he was quick enough to bluster it being a moment of weakness whenever they did come, it didn’t change the fact that slowly the two of them were beginning to fall for each other. Indeed, it seemed like nothing could come between them as the king’s defeat came closer and closer. Nothing except for the fact that Flame Face was the king himself.
All this time, the source of the entire kingdom’s suffering was traveling alongside her, cracking jokes and bandaging her wounds. The Alchemist’s words felt worse than any knife or infection she had faced; worse still was the fact that he hadn’t remembered that he was the king in the first place. If he had been lying to her this whole time then she would have felt justified if saddened in plunging the massive sword that had overtaken her arm into his body. It would have been a source of guilt and sorrow for years to come, but she would have won out with the knowledge that the Malaise was gone. It was like she told herself when she set out on this journey: the death of few was worth less that the death of thousands.
The fact that he didn’t remember at all made her feel sick. This was an entirely new person, one who had been willing to travel all over the kingdom to snuff out the members of the King’s Hand and finally slay him once and for all. This was Flame Face, the one who had kept her spirits high and who she eventually came to love. He wasn’t the man who had selfishly doomed the kingdom, not anymore. Even when he offered himself up to die, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lose another loved one, not after she had been alone for so long.
But if Laure was the Chosen One and refused to kill Flame Face, then what did that make her?
In her time with the Dead Cells Aspirator, Laure had forgotten the Malaise’s unique brand of pain. Sickly slow throbbing pulsed in time with her heart, a white-hot agony that made her head feel fuzzy and vision blur. The only reason she wasn’t slumped onto the floor in agony was the man currently supporting her, eye darting back to her every few seconds to check on her.
“Almost there, Laure.” Flame Face mumbled, scarf whipping furiously in the wind as the two of them limped towards the void swallowing the kingdom. “Just a little bit longer.”
Laure almost laughed at those words. Without the Aspirator, the infection would spread and reduce her to a howling zombie like it once had before. It was only a matter of time before she bit the dust for good, and this time there was no miracle to stave off it’s slow march through her veins. Still, she’d rather die with Flame Face by her side as they tried one last time to eradicate the Malaise than lay dying in the ruins of High Peak Castle.
“I’d do it again.” Laure slurred, wincing as a particularly painful spasm wracked her arm. Flame face pulled her closer, resting a cool, undead hand on her face to try and soothe her. She leaned into it gratefully; the cold was a welcome reprieve from the heat threatening to break out from under her skin.
“Sparing me?” He asked, beginning to walk them forwards again. The force of the void is starting to get more powerful as they get closer, Laure having to dig her feet in with the last of her strength to stop herself from stumbling off balance.
“No. Well, that too. I mean the journey. The whole thing, from the prison to now.”
“…That’s very sweet of you.” Flame Face’s fires roar a bit brighter, a sight she’s learned means that he’s blushing. In a less serious time, she might have teased him about it. “I would do the same. I’m very good at trying the same thing over and over again, if you hadn’t gotten that already.”
“You never managed to get out until I came along.” It feels good to slip back into their teasing banter, about as natural as breathing at this point. Some things stay the same, even as the void roars on. There are holes in the ground from where trees and shrubs have been ripped up. She surmised that they would have gone flying a long time ago, but something about their combined presence seems to have a bit of nullifying effect on the void’s pull. The creation of the Malaise and it’s intended destroyer.
Laure bites back a fresh hiss of pain. The void has blocked out the sky at this point, yawning in front of them as erratic stabs of lightning jab out. She’s got one last question before they see whatever awaits inside. “Will you still love me once I become a monster?”
“If.” Flame Face’s pink glow seems like a mere speck in the face of their latest trial, staring wide-eyed yet unwilling to back down.
“Fine. Will you still love me if I become a monster?”
“Yes. I’d keep you company.”
“Even if I was a zombie and tried to eat you?”
“You can’t kill an immortal with that sword gone. Might as well make the most of it, right?” They are on the verge of the abyss now, little bit of resistance gone.
“Hey, Flame Face? If this really is the end then I want you to know that I love you.”
“I love you too, Laure.”
And with that, the two of them limp into the void.